Ohana
by EllaoftheOpera
Summary: Ohana means family, and family means nobody gets left behind. Unfortunately, life is about as far from a Disney movie as it can get for the Winchesters. However, for one little girl, family may make all the difference. One-shot book of my OC, Casey. No pairings, but that doesn't mean there's no romance. No swearing or sexual content. Rated T for minor violence and gore.
1. Prologue

**Hey guys! I recently (as in almost 2 months ago) started watching Supernatural and I am HOOKED. I started writing one-shots for Casey here a while back and decided that it was high time I posted some of them. They are being dual posted on Wattpad under the same story name. I wrote this sort-of backstory for her so you would know where she came from. These one-shots are going to be out of order chronologically, but character ages will be posted at the top so you can get a sense of when each one-shot happened in correlation with the others. Most of these one-shots happen when the three of them are much older, but I'm thinking about writing a few more that are focused on her childhood. What do you guys think? Let me know in the comments. I also take requests for this story, so if there is something you want to see please let me know! Love you all!**

Dean - 15; Sam - 11; Casey - 6

Casey Murdock was not your average six-year-old. She knew things that no six-year-old ever should. Like how to walk silently around the house when Daddy was asleep, and how to squeeze herself into tight places so Daddy couldn't reach her if she ever woke him up.

She knew not to ask questions, especially not about Mommy. The last time Casey asked about Mommy, Daddy threw one of his bottles of yucky liquid at her. She didn't know why he liked to drink that stuff. She thought it smelled bad.

She knew how to take money from her Daddy's dresser drawer and walk down the street to the corner store to buy food. The cashier knew her name. Sometimes he would slip a few extra things in her bag along with the bread and milk she always bought.

She knew how to make food for herself. Every morning she would eat the bread and milk she bought at the corner store. Her neighbor had an apple tree in his yard and some of the apples would fall into hers. He told her that anything that fell in her yard was hers to keep, so she carefully collected whatever she could. Sometimes the neighbors would bring her food when they knew that her Daddy wasn't home. Casey always made sure not to leave crumbs. Daddy got mad if she left crumbs.

She knew how to walk around the corner to the library and find somebody to help her reach the books on the top shelf. She learned to read from the picture books in the children's section. Daddy wouldn't let her go to school because he said it cost too much money. He threw another bottle at her when she asked if she could go. The librarian knew her name and always greeted her with a wave and a sad smile. Casey didn't know why she was sad.

She knew how to put ice on her arm when Daddy hit her hard enough to leave a bruise. She knew how to clean cuts and bandage them up after Daddy threw his glass bottles at her. She knew not to cry because that would only make Daddy angrier.

Yes, Casey Murdock knew things. But there were things she didn't know as well.

She didn't know how to ride a bike or sing her ABCs. She didn't know how to pump her legs on the swings. She didn't know any Disney movies or princesses. She didn't know any bedtime stories or lullabies. She didn't know how ice cream tasted, or what it felt like to have a birthday. She didn't know what it was like to trick or treat on Halloween, or why Santa never seemed to visit her on Christmas. Maybe he'd forgotten, or maybe he simply didn't care.

In short, Casey knew how to survive, but she didn't know how to truly live life as a child should. Shed never had the option, and she didn't believe she ever would.

That's why she decided to leave.

ooOOoo

It was a rather average morning for Casey. She woke up at the crack of dawn, as soon as the sun started shining through her blinds, just like she usually did. She dressed silently. She knew her Daddy wasn't home (and probably wouldn't be until later that night) but dressing silently was a habit she'd picked up early on.

This morning, however, was going to be a little different. She decided that today was the day she was going to leave this place. She didn't want to stay any longer. She decided to set off to find a new family, one that would give her blankets without holes in them and would let her eat more than bread and milk for breakfast. Maybe, if she was lucky, She would even find a family that would let her go to school.

Casey had been slowly taking money from her Daddy's dresser drawer for some time now, a little bit at a time, just enough that he wouldn't notice. She used the money to go to The Second-Hand Store and buy a gently used backpack, one that was big enough to hold all her things. The cashier there knew her name as well. She would bring him her old clothes that didn't fit and he would help her choose new ones at no extra charge. He had even given her a brand new coat for Christmas last year. It was hidden in the back of her closet, where Daddy would never find it.

Casey began folding up her clothes, like the man at the store had shown her. They took up less room that way, he said. All she had was a few shirts and pairs of pants, and two pairs of socks. She packed them all into the bottom of the backpack and began going methodically around her room, checking all her hiding places so she made sure she wouldn't forget anything. There were the crayons the neighbors had given her instead of throwing out. They were used and some were small, but she loved them anyway. She placed them carefully in one of the pockets and continued her search.

Casey began to count things off on her fingers. Let's see… she had her notebook from the Corner Store Man; her library card and the small, gently used picture book from the Librarian; the very small cardboard box holding her few treasures, like rocks and beads she'd found outside; and the doll she'd found in the Room with the Other Bed. Daddy didn't like it when she went into the Room with the Other Bed. He locked the door after he found her in there. But she'd managed to smuggle the doll out before he noticed. She named the doll Lucy. She wasn't sure why; maybe she just liked the name.

When she had deemed her search complete, she took the money she had stolen from Daddy's dresser the night before and put it in the box with her other treasures. Then she put on her coat and shoes and crept down the stairs to the kitchen.

She grabbed the bag of bread she'd bought the day before and put it inside the top of the bag so it wouldn't get squished. Finally, she took the few apples she'd managed to collect before the ground froze outside and put them in her coat pockets.

She took one last look around the kitchen. She didn't think she'd particularly miss this place, but she did know that she was never coming back, so she wanted to see everything one last time. The fridge where she kept all the food she bought, the microwave she taught herself to use, the Top Shelf where Daddy kept his yucky liquid, the pepper shaker that was moving on its own…

Wait.

Why was the pepper shaker moving? Was an earthquake happening? Casey had read about earthquakes in the library. She knew that they made everything in the whole house shake and fall over and that if one happened she needed to hide underneath something big and heavy, like the kitchen table.

But nothing else was moving, just the pepper shaker. Casey decided that she could probably rule out an earthquake. But what else could it be?

Then the microwave turned on all by itself.

Casey couldn't remember reading about that. Could microwaves turn on by themselves? She didn't think so. Only people could turn them on. And nobody was in the kitchen with her.

The fridge door was opening and closing now, making a loud banging noise. The bottles of yucky liquid on the Top Shelf were clinking together. The drinking cups in the cabinet flew off the shelf and right toward her. She ducked, thankful that the only drinking cups she had were plastic and not glass. Something was causing this, she decided. Cups don't fly around all by themselves.

Casey sighed and walked back up the stairs. She supposed leaving would have to wait another day. Right now, she needed to figure out what was going on.

ooOOoo

Later that day, when Casey left for the library, something tripped her when she was walking out the door. She caught herself before she fell, but she glared back inside the house afterward.

When she got to the library, she asked the librarian if she had any books on ghosts.

"Ghosts?" the librarian asked, puzzled.

Casey nodded solemnly. "Yes. I think I have one in my house. He's throwing things around and making lots of noises, and I need to figure out how to get him to leave."

The librarian blinked, then sighed, leading the young girl to the section of the library that held works on apparitions and paranormal activity.

"If you want information on ghosts, this is where you'll find it," she said.

"Thank you," Casey said.

She began to methodically search through the shelves, looking for a book that could possibly tell her how to get rid of a ghost.

She didn't notice the older man watching her from a nearby table. Two other boys were sitting near him, one a young teenager and the other still a child.

"What are ghosts afraid of?" Casey muttered to herself. "They have to be afraid of something…"

"You looking for books on ghosts?" the teenager asked.

Casey looked over him. "Yes. I think I have one in my house and I need to know how to make him go away."

The teenager chuckled and walked over to her. "What's your name, kid?"

"Cassandra Elizabeth Murdock. But my real name is too long, so everybody calls me Casey."

"Nice to meet you, Casey. My name's Dean," he said, sticking out his hand.

Casey shook it. "Do you know how to get rid of ghosts?"

"I know a thing or two," he answered vaguely. He looked around the area. "Where are your parents, kid?"

She shrugged. "I don't know where my Daddy is. He only comes home at night."

Dean's eyes widened. "What about your mom?"

"I don't have one," Casey replied sadly.

Dean got a faraway look in his eye. "Neither do I," he replied softly. "So your dad just lets you go wherever you want on your own? How old are you?"

"Six and a half."

He shook his head. "Unbelievable."

He took Casey's hand and led her over to the other table with the older kid and the man.

"This is my dad John and my younger brother Sam," he explained. "Tell us more about this ghost of yours."

"Dean, what are you doing?" Dean's dad asked. "You're supposed to be helping me research."

"This girl has a ghost problem," he explained. "And she's all alone. She's only six. I don't feel good about leaving her alone."

John just shook his head and went back to reading.

"He started bothering me today when I tried to leave," Casey started.

"Your ghost, you mean?" Sam asked, listening intently.

"Yeah. I had all my stuff packed ready to leave when weird stuff started to happen. The microwave turned on by itself and the fridge was opening and closing really loud. Then it started throwing drinking cups at me. And it tripped me when I walked out the door to come here."

"Sounds like you might have a poltergeist on your hands," Dean said thoughtfully.

"Why were you leaving the first time? Why did you have all your stuff packed?" Sam asked.

"I decided that it was time to go. As soon as I figure out how to get rid of the ghost I'm leaving. I'm going to go and find a family that will take care of me and let me go to school," Casey explained.

Sam got a sad look in his eyes. He didn't say anything. He just gave Casey a sad smile, not unlike the one the librarian always seemed to be wearing.

"You don't have a ghost sweetheart, you have a poltergeist," Dean explained. "They like to cause mischief. Luckily for you, we know how to get rid of them."

"You do?" Casey asked hopefully. "How?"

"You gotta find the remains of who they used to be when they were alive and burn them. And they really don't like salt, as well."

"What kind of remains? How do I find them?" she asked.

John was rather interested in this girl now. He thought she'd freak out when she learned about poltergeists and how to get rid of them, but instead, she wanted to know more.

"We can help you if you want," John offered. "Show us where you live and we'll take care of it."

Casey seemed rather wary of telling them where she lived.

"I don't know. You guys are strangers. You could steal from my house or something."

"Look, kid," Dean said, getting down on her level. "We wanna help you. We don't wanna hurt you. We'll get rid of your ghost for you and then you can be on your way to your new family that lets you go to school, okay?" Dean had a sad smile as well.

Casey thought for a moment, then nodded. "Okay. But if you guys try anything funny, I'll call the cops on you."

John raised an eyebrow. "You know how to call the cops?"

"Yeah. I called them on my Daddy once. He hid the phone from me after that, but I know where he hid it so I can still call them if you guys try to steal something."

"Okay. We won't steal anything. Scouts honor," Dean said, saluting her. "Now, take us to this poltergeist of yours."

ooOOoo

"This is where you live?" Sam asked her, disgusted.

Casey tried her hardest to keep things somewhat clean, but she wasn't able to do much. There was broken glass on the floor from last night when her daddy had thrown another glass bottle at her. There was a big cut on her shoulder, but she didn't think these people needed to know about that.

The floor was also really sticky from the yucky liquid on the Top Shelf. Casey didn't know how to make it not sticky, so she resigned herself to simply learning where the sticky places were and avoiding them. There were always dishes in the sink as well. Casey always washed her little plate and drinking cup, but she wasn't strong enough to put away the glass plates.

"Casey," Dean said, kneeling down so he was at eye level with her. "Does your daddy ever hurt you at all?"

Casey hesitated a moment, then shook her head. Dean already knew the real answer, though. He swore under his breath.

"You said this ghost likes to hang out in the kitchen?" he asked, changing the subject.

She nodded. "He likes to throw things at me."

Sam yelped when one of Casey's plastic cups flew past his head and hit the wall behind him.

"Found him," he said.

Casey remembered what Dean said about poltergeists not liking salt. She grabbed the salt shaker and shook some salt into her hand.

"You don't scare me, ghost!" she yelled.

She didn't see John's calculating look behind her.

"Casey," he said, "do you still have all of your stuff packed?"

She nodded.

"Go and grab it. We're going to get you out of here. It's not safe anymore."

"I doubt it ever was," Dean muttered under his breath.

Casey ran upstairs and grabbed her backpack. She ran back downstairs to the others but stopped still when she heard the front door open and slam closed.

"CASEY?! WHERE IS MY MONEY?!"

Casey's eyes grew wide as saucers. She started shaking when she saw her father walk into the room.

"Who are these people?! Why would you let strangers into the house?!"

"They came to help, Daddy. They're here to get rid of the ghost," she said quietly, her voice full of fear.

"What ghost? You and you're stupid imagination. Get these people out of my house, NOW!"

He walked swiftly forward, intending to slap her, but Dean pushed her and Sam back behind himself before he could.

"You don't have the right to yell at her like that, you son of a-"

Dean was thrown into the opposite wall before he could finish his sentence.

Casey screamed and ran to her go-to hiding place: the empty cabinet in the kitchen. She closed the door and plugged her ears so she wouldn't hear what was going on outside.

Even with her ears plugged, she could hear sounds of combat: people being hit, kicked, slapped… she felt horrible for bringing these people to her house. It was her fault they were getting hurt, she reasoned. She should have told them no.

Not a minute later, the cabinet door was ripped off its hinges. Her father's angry face was all she could see. Casey screamed loudly and pushed herself as far back into the cupboard as she could. Before her father could touch her, however, John had pushed him out of the way.

"Dean! Take Sam and Casey and get back to the car!" he shouted.

Dean snatched Casey out of the cabinet and ran with her in his arms, making sure Sam was ahead of him. He unlocked the car and all but shoved Sam inside before climbing in himself with Casey and shutting the door, locking it once more behind him.

Casey was crying. "I'm sorry," she said to Dean.

"Hey, don't apologize. This isn't your fault," he said.

"It's not?"

"Not at all," he assured her. "Not at all."

"I grabbed your backpack," Sam said, handing it to her.

Casey grabbed it and held it to her chest tightly. Everything she owned in the world was in there, and she didn't want to lose it.

Dean saw John run out of the house, the angry father not far behind him. He quickly unlocked the car and tossed the keys to his dad after he slid into the front seat. The car tore away from Casey's house and around the corner, not slowing until they'd reached the main road.

"Where are you taking me?" Casey asked.

"With us," John explained, turning off the main road and into a motel parking lot. "It's definitely not safe for you back there."

"She's staying with us? What about her psycho dad back there?" Dean asked.

"He won't be bothering us. We're leaving town. Now. Grab your things from the room and get back here pronto. Casey, stay in the car."

Casey was too scared to do otherwise. She unzipped her backpack and pulled out her doll, holding it tightly to her.

"It's gonna be okay, Lucy," she said softly. "It's gonna be okay. These people are nice. They're gonna take us away from Daddy so he can't hurt us anymore."

Less than ten minutes later, everybody was back in the car and heading onto the highway.

Casey was squished between Dean and Sam in the backseat, still holding tightly to Lucy. She didn't say a word, and neither did they.

John drove for hours, only stopping once for gas. He didn't leave the highway again until they'd left the state of Montana and made it to North Dakota.

"We'll stop here tonight," he announced, finally pulling off the freeway again. "Then tomorrow, we'll head to Bobby's so we can figure out what to do next."

He stopped at the first motel he saw, pulling into the parking lot and pulling the keys from the ignition.

Casey still didn't say a word.

Dean grabbed his duffel from the backseat and held out his hand for her to take. She looked up at him with big eyes.

"Hey," he said, kneeling in front of her. "What's up?"

"I'm scared," she said softly. "I don't want to be left all alone again."

"You won't be," he promised, pulling her into a hug. "You won't be. I won't leave you alone. Not now, not ever. From now on, you can count on me. You wanna know why?"

"Why?"

"Cause you're a Winchester now, which means you're family. And family doesn't get left behind."


	2. Eleven Years Later - Part 1

Dean - 26; Sam - 22; Casey - 17;

"Okay, Sam, where we headed next?" Dean asked, walking inside the motel room. He had just finished packing the Impala's trunk.

Casey was sitting on the bed next to Sam, trying to covertly read over his shoulder. Every once and a while he would adjust his position so that she couldn't see anymore, but she was relentless in her pursuit of information.

"There's one," Casey exclaimed.

"Must you read over my shoulder?" Sam asked, scanning the article. His eyes widened when he saw the location.

"Yes, I must," she replied dramatically. "Wait, go back! Go back!"

"It didn't look very promising, Case," Sam said, praying that she would drop it and let him try to find another case.

"Really? Cause it sure looked promising to me. I don't know of anything normal that can enter locked rooms and devour human beings in their beds without leaving a trace." Casey stood up off the bed, hands on her hips.

"Yeah Sam, I'm pretty sure that there isn't a plausible reason for something like that that doesn't involve the paranormal," Dean said, backing Casey up.

Sam sighed heavily. "It's pretty far away. At least a day's drive."

"We've driven farther for less," Casey pointed out.

"You really want to drive all the way to Montana in the middle of the winter?" Sam asked, giving Dean a deadpan stare. He was trying to communicate to him just why he didn't want to go to Montana.

"What's wrong with Montana?" Casey asked. "I've never been there. I could cross another state off the list."

"Wait, Montana?" Dean asked. The pieces were starting to click together in his head. "It is pretty cold in Montana. Maybe we ought to go when it's warmer."

"And let whatever's killing these people continue its murder spree? I don't think so." Casey put her foot down.

Dean sighed. "Casey, I think I left my phone in the car. Will you go grab it for me? I need to make a call."

Casey raised an eyebrow but complied, turning and leaving the room. As soon as the door closed, Dean held up his cell phone.

"Should keep her busy for a few minutes," he said. "She's not going to let this go, is she?"

Sam shook his head. "Nope. You know how she is."

Dean rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Oh, this could go so bad..."

"She's repressed every memory she has from before we picked her up," Sam reminded her. "Maybe she won't realize what's going on."

"I doubt it. She's smarter than the two of us combined. She'll figure it out."

"Not if we keep her occupied," Sam suggested. "And we won't go near that part of town. I mean, think about it. The chances of running into that guy are slim to none."

Dean seemed torn. "Fine," he ultimately said. "But if this goes south I'm blaming you."

"Dean, I have searched the entire car and I am ninety-five percent sure-" Casey caught sight of Dean's phone in his hand. "-one hundred percent sure that your phone is not in there," she finished, folding her arms.

"Yeah, I found it in my pocket right after you left," he said sheepishly.

She rolled her eyes and walked back out to the car. "Unbelievable."

Sam let out an exhale. "I guess we're going to Montana, then."

Dean exhaled as well. "I guess we are."

ooOOoo

The next afternoon, the Impala rolled into the small town of Abbottsville, Montana. It was snowing, a sight not uncommon to see in the middle of November. There were large drifts on the sides of the road, pushed there by snow plows. Normally, one would expect to see children outside playing in the snowdrifts, or maybe people shoveling their driveways.

Instead, it was eerily quiet. There wasn't a soul to be seen.

"This is... odd," Casey commented.

"You're not wrong," Sam said, agreeing with her.

Dean pulled into the parking lot of the first motel he saw and pulled the keys from the ignition.

Casey opened the door and immediately slammed it closed again.

"Oh my holy- how do people survive living in this?" she asked, hugging herself. Her teeth were already starting to chatter.

"You're the one that wanted to come here," Sam reminded her.

"Yeah, but nobody told me that Montana was colder than the Antarctic!"

"Calm down, Casey. It's not that bad," Dean said, opening his door. Almost immediately, he slammed it closed again as well.

"I stand corrected," he mumbled, folding his arms and sinking back into the driver's seat.

Sam rolled his eyes. "I'll go get us a room, then."

"No, don't do it, Sam! It's not worth it!" Casey cried out dramatically.

"She's right Sammy! You'll die out there! Don't do this-"

Sam closed the car door, muffling the rest of Dean's sentence. He could hear the two of them yelling at him with fake drama.

"Children," he muttered to himself. "I hunt monsters with children..."

ooOOoo

Once the three of them had gotten inside and out of the cold, Sam began pulling up information on the victims.

"There have been three attacks so far this year," he said. "I wonder if there were any more in past years..."

He began typing things into his computer, oblivious to the fact that Casey and Dean were both huddled into the same blanket, trying to conserve warmth.

"How the heck are you not freezing right now?" Casey asked, glaring at the back of Sam's head.

"He's not human," Dean muttered, pulling the blanket closer around him and his little sister. "He cannot be human..."

"Guys, the heating just turned on. It's gonna take a minute for the room to warm up. Just be patient," Sam said, not even bothering to turn around.

"I don't see any prior attacks in the past five years or so," he continued, scanning the local newspaper headlines from years past. "But this system is relatively new. The records have only been digitized for the past six years or so. If we want to see farther back, we'll have to go to the local library and take a look at the microfiche."

"Really? We just got out of the cold and now we have to go back out in it?" Casey asked.

"I'm willing to bet that the library has a better heating system than this dump," Sam said nonchalantly.

Casey turned to Dean. "Should we risk it?"

He nodded. "I think we can make it. Besides, imagine the warmth..."

ooOOoo

A good twenty minutes later, the trio walked into the local library.

Dean sighed in delight as soon as he walked into the building. "Finally... warmth..."

Casey, however, was having a very different reaction.

Walking into the building was like walking into a very distant memory, one she didn't even know she had. She recognized this place. The amount of deja vu pouring off of it and onto her was starting to freak her out.

"What on earth...?" she mumbled.

Dean finally noticed Casey's reaction. "You okay, Bug?"

Casey didn't answer. She was still trying to drink in how familiar everything was. How the heck did she know about an itty bitty library in an itty bitty town smack dab in the middle of Montana?

"Casey," he said again, putting a hand on her shoulder.

Casey jumped a little. "What?"

"Are you okay? You went really quiet just now."

She swallowed hard. "Yeah. I think so," she lied.

"Guys!" Sam called. "The microfiche is over here."

Casey walked past Dean and toward the section of the library where Sam was. She didn't want to dwell on whatever weird feelings she was having any longer.

There were three microfiche machines set up in a small corner of the library. Sam was already looking at one, flipping through newspapers at a decent pace.

Casey took the one next to him and started flipping through headlines as well.

 _ ** **Local****_ _ **farmer grows prize-winning potato...**_

 ** _Robbery suspect apprehended..._**

 ** _Woman murdered in her own home, no sign of forced entry..._**

Wait.

This sounded promising.

Casey began scanning the article, which was dated from 1992, thirteen years prior. The case looked like it fit with the other current ones. She turned to tell the boys her discovery when a small, sub- headline caught her eye.

 ** _Local girl dies of traumatic brain injury_**

Why did that picture look so familiar?

She took a closer look at the article's picture. There was a picture of two young girls, along with a mugshot of an older man. They all looked familiar somehow.

Casey started reading the article.

 ** _Lucille Murdock, 9, died of a traumatic brain injury this morning at Sweet Grass County Hospital. Her father, Thomas Murdock, instigated the attack that caused the injury. Mr. Murdock is in custody. Cassandra Murdock, 4, has been temporarily placed in the hands of the state._**

Murdock.

 _Cassandra Murdock._

That was her name.

That. Was. _Her. Name._

And that little girl, the smaller one in the photo?

 _That girl looked an awful lot like her._

Casey couldn't breathe.

She couldn't think.

All she could do was stare...

"Casey?"

Casey almost jumped out of her skin. She whirled around to see Dean watching her with a concerned look on his face.

Dean could immediately tell that something was wrong. Casey was wide-eyed and hyperventilating, spiraling into a panic.

"Bug? What's going on?" he asked taking a step toward her.

Casey took a step back, not wanting to be touched. She didn't think she could deal with anymore outside stimuli. She was in complete and utter shock.

Sam had joined Dean at this point, trying to figure out what had caused Casey to freak out so badly.

"Case, you gotta talk to us. What happened?" he asked gently.

Casey couldn't speak. All she could do was point toward her microfiche machine. Her mind was screaming at her.

 _I have a sister... I have a sister... I had a sister... I had a sister..._

Tears were running down her cheeks at the thought. Casey didn't know what to do. She didn't know what she wanted. All she knew was that she had to get out of there.

Before the boys could say anything, Casey bolted.

Dean immediately took off after her. Sam, on the other hand, stayed behind, determined to figure out the cause of her distress. He began scanning the article on her machine, looking for clues.

Casey ended up bolting all the way out the door of the library and down the street. Dean was having a hard time keeping up. Casey always was the fastest runner out of all of them. She was breathing hard, not knowing where she was going but trusting her feet to take her where she needed to go.

"Casey!" she heard Dean shout.

She didn't listen, instead choosing to keep pushing on. It was almost as if she were running through a memory. She knew this street. She knew that corner. Every single one of these houses looked familiar. She started seeing glimpses of things long past. A tall, gangly man pulling an envelope from his mailbox. A short, stout man driving a white car, collecting and replacing milk bottles on people's porches. A beautiful young woman pushing a small boy on a swing. A little girl holding several books under one arm and a bag of bread with the other...

Casey's head and heart both screamed at her to stop, so stop she did. She was bent over, trying to catch her breath. Dean was still far behind, trying to catch up. When she was able to stand up straight again, she blinked the tears from her eyes to reveal a very old, very run down two-story house. It was clear that nobody had lived here in a long time. She saw the little girl with the books walk up to the front door and open it up to walk inside. Casey's feet moved of their own accord, following the girl up the step and over the threshold, ignoring the 'CONDEMNED' sign on the front door.

As soon as she stepped inside, a flood of repressed memories came flowing back to her.

She saw herself making food, keeping house, hiding in the cabinetry. Silently taking money from the dresser drawer, staring up at the Top Shelf, tiptoeing quietly past The Room with the Other Bed. Being thrown across the room into the wall, bandaging herself up, trying to get through the day without breaking down. She saw, for the first time, a girl only a few years older than her, teaching her how to bandage herself up, how to use the microwave to make food hot, how to avoid the squeaky spots on the stairs so she wouldn't wake up Daddy. How to count money and use it to buy things at the Corner Store and the Second Hand Store. How to eat without leaving crumbs. How to sound out the words in the picture books at the library. How to call the police on the telephone when Daddy tried to hurt her more than normal.

She saw that same girl, in the hands of their father, being thrown down the front steps of their home and cracking her head on the pavement. She saw herself calling the police, just like she had been taught, hiding under the kitchen table so that her Daddy wouldn't find her. She saw her sister being taken away in a big white car with flashing lights while the policemen took her Daddy away in their police car. She remembered being taken away in a different car and living in a big house with lots of other kids for a few days. She remembered being taken back to her house. Her Daddy was already there. Her sister was not.

She never saw her sister again.

Casey couldn't stop the tears from coming faster and harder as she climbed the stairs to The Room with the Other Bed. She finally knew what room that was and she was a little scared to enter it now, but she knew she'd never forgive herself if she didn't.

It was still locked, just as it had always been. Luckily, Casey had picked up more than a few skills from her many years with the Winchester brothers. Despite her very shaky hands and her eyes being blurred with tears, she managed to pick the lock and open the door.

True to its name, The Room with the Other Bed held nothing more than an empty bedstead inside. The mattress was missing; Casey suspected it was the same one she'd slept on for so many nights. She began methodically searching the room for something, anything that could connect her to her older sister.

The room itself was empty, but the closet held a small shoebox with several holes in it. Casey removed it with trembling hands and sat on the ground. It was beyond dusty; sitting in a closet for thirteen years had not done it any favors. She lifted the lid, almost afraid to see what was inside.

Empty. The box was empty.

Casey didn't know why she expected to find anything. She tried not to be too disappointed. Just to be safe, she turned the box upside down and shook it.

A single piece of paper fluttered out.

Casey picked it up gingerly and turned it over.

There was five-year-old Lucille, holding her newborn sister at the hospital. Casey suspected that a nurse had taken the picture and Lucille had saved it. She wondered what other things used to be in that box.

"Casey?"

Casey didn't need to turn around to know that Dean had finally arrived.

All she could do was cry. Harder and more fervently than she ever had before.

And all Dean could do was hold her tight.

 **I purposefully have not described what Casey looks like so that you can picture her however you want in your head. The only definite trait she has is long hair, because having that opens up several possibilities when it comes to certain scenarios (I don't want to give anything away). I have the next part planned out in my head and I plan on writing it tomorrow. After that, updates will probably be a little farther apart. I have at least twenty scenarios started though, so I have no shortage of ideas. Thanks for reading, love you all!**

 **-Ella**


	3. Eleven Years Later - Part 2

Dean didn't know how long they sat there, huddled in that dusty old corner, pushed as far back against the wall as they could go. Timelessness seemed to be a side effect of the old house. It was almost as if time itself had stopped to watch the sibling duo's exchange.

Dean couldn't remember the last time he'd seen Casey cry like this. She was never one for showing her emotions freely. Even as a child, she preferred letting her emotions out behind closed doors rather than in front of her adopted family. Sure, he'd seen her cry before. Casey had the most humanity and sensitivity out of all of them, so seeing a few tears slip out after witnessing a horrific crime scene was nothing new. It showed that she was human, and unafraid to show it. But something like this? Dean couldn't ever remember seeing her so broken, so completely shattered. It worried him, to say the very least.

He heard footsteps coming up the stairs, stalling his train of thought. He tensed, covertly removing his gun from the waist of his jeans.

Sam walked into the room less than a minute later with a look of disgust on his face, the same look he had when he first entered the house eleven years prior. Dean relaxed, easing the gun back into his waistband.

There was a sharp intake of breath when Sam saw his two siblings huddled in the corner. He sighed, moving to sit next to Dean, who was holding Casey as close as humanly possible on his lap. She was still crying, but not as hard as before.

Nobody said anything for several seconds. Nobody needed to. The silence told Sam everything he needed to know.

"She had a sister," he said quietly, watching as Dean ran his fingers through Casey's hair, trying to calm her down.

Dean's eyes widened. He turned to face his brother, though his ministrations didn't skip a beat.

"What?"

Sam nodded. "An older sister."

Dean turned back to Casey, understanding gracing his features. "Oh, sweetheart…"

"I asked the librarian about it. She told me what happened."

"He threw her down the steps," Casey choked out.

Both boys turned to look at her. "What?"

"I saw the whole thing. He came after me. Lucy got in the way. He pushed her out the door and she fell down the stairs and hit her head. There was blood everywhere…" She shuddered, unable to bring herself to say more.

"Shh…" Dean said softly. He pulled the keys out of his pocket and handed them to Sam.

"Go back to the library and get the car. Let's get her out of here."

ooOOoo

About an hour later, the three of them had made it back to the motel. Casey was fast asleep on one of the beds. She'd gone straight to her duffel the minute they'd arrived and dug out her old rag doll before curling up on the bed. The old photograph had yet to leave her hands.

Dean was sitting next to her, stroking her hair. Sam was on the opposite bed.

Neither of them said anything.

"I think I know what's attacking these people," Sam said, desperate to break the silence and change the subject.

Dean shifted his gaze over to him to show he was paying attention but didn't say anything.

"I think its an Aswang," he continued.

"An Aswang?"

"Yeah. They look like normal human beings during the day, but they transform into different creatures at night. They could be dogs, crows, warthogs… it depends on the Aswang. They like to eat livers and hearts, which all of the victims were found to be missing. The one thing that doesn't fit is the demographics of the victims. Aswangs love to eat small children and babies. All of the victims so far have been fully grown adults, even the ones from back in the nineties."

"Huh. Well if they look like humans, how are we supposed to figure out which one is the Aswang?" Dean asked.

"Legend says that if you look into their eyes, your reflection will be upside down. Their eyes are normally bloodshot as well, cause they stay out all night," Sam explained.

"This sounds like that thing we were hunting the last time we were here," Dean said in realization. "We never did catch it. Dad was too focused on getting us away from the real monster."

He turned to look at Casey again. She was breathing softly, tear tracks still visible on her face.

"I checked the obituaries while I was at the library," Sam said quietly. "I didn't see his name anywhere. He's still kicking, far as I can tell."

"He doesn't deserve to be," Dean growled.

"No, he doesn't," Sam agreed. "But the last thing Casey needs right now is for us to seek him out. She's already hurting pretty badly. She doesn't need to add anything else to the pile."

Dean sighed heavily. "Yeah, you're right. Let's just gank this thing as soon as possible so we can get out of here and never come back."

ooOOoo

When Casey opened her eyes and found herself on one of the motel beds, she sighed in relief.

 _What a horrible dream…_

Then she saw the photograph in her hands.

And tears started coming to her eyes again.

"Hey hey hey! Calm down, sweetheart. You gotta calm down," Dean said. He had been sitting there when she fell asleep. Somewhere in the back of her head, the fact registered that he hadn't left the entire time she was asleep, something she was immensely grateful for, but she had other things on her mind at the moment.

"You wanna talk about it?" Dean asked once she'd calmed down a bit.

Casey shrugged. She didn't really trust her voice at the moment. It was just so much to take in at once…

"Where's Sam?" she asked, standing from the bed and going to the mini-fridge in their room.

"I dunno. He left a few minutes before you woke up. Said he needed to check something out."

Casey pulled a bottle of water from the fridge and uncapped it, draining half the bottle in one go. She hadn't realized she was quite that thirsty. Crying your eyes out for almost an hour was rather dehydrating, apparently.

"Did he find what he was looking for at the library before-" she stopped, not wanting to relive the events of the afternoon a second time.

"Yeah, he did," Dean answered, realizing that she was trying to change the topic. "He thinks he knows what we're up against."

"Good," she said, bringing the bottle to her lips again. "Then let's gank it and get as far away from here as possible."

"I don't suppose you know anything about Aswangs?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, actually," she said.

He did a double take. "Wait, what?"

She put her hands on her hips. "Dean, who was stuck doing research for you guys until you finally decided to let me start coming with you?"

Dean opened his mouth, then closed it again. He nodded his head. "Proceed."

"They're kind of like shapeshifters, except they shift into animals instead of other people. They are very fast and tend to be rather thin as well. Most of them are silent, but certain Aswangs will make noises to confuse their victims. They make a sort of ticking noise, which is why some cultures call them Tik-tiks. They hunt at night, so well have the best chance of finding it if we wait for it to get dark first. However, they're much easier to kill in the daytime."

Dean looked impressed. "How do we kill them?" he asked, giving her his full attention.

"There's conflicting research," she replied. "According to what I've read, they can be killed the same way as vampires are 'supposed' to be killed. Garlic, silver, crucifixes and the like. But we both know none of that works. If I had to wager a guess I'd say decapitation. They're also afraid of the sound a whip makes when you crack it, if that helps."

Dean was starting to get excited. "We've gotta find a whip so we can Indiana Jones this sucker!"

Casey rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "You are way too excited about this."

"Like you've never wanted to crack a whip the way Indy does," Dean retorted, cracking a pretend whip in the air.

ooOOoo

Later that evening the three siblings were sitting in the Impala, keeping their eyes peeled for anything suspicious.

"This is the neighborhood the attacks have been happening in," Sam explained. "I've been trying to find a link between the victims but I haven't been able to as of yet."

"I recognize this neighborhood," Casey said thoughtfully. "Let me see that list of victims."

Sam handed it back to her. He and Dean watched as she studied the names. They had been walking on eggshells around her for most of the day, mindful of her admittedly terrible mood and not wanting to do anything that might provoke her further.

Something clicked in Casey's head.

"These surnames," she started. "I know the surnames but I don't recognize the first ones. All of these people were adults?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah."

"After the…incident with my sister, I was put in a group home with a bunch of other kids for a few days before they took me back to my dad. A few of the kids had these same surnames. Not many, but enough to be more than a coincidence." She pointed at one of the names. "I distinctly remember a boy named Max Friar who was there for the same reason I was. His father had put his older brother in the hospital."

"What are you saying?" Dean asked.

"I'm saying I found your missing link. I'm willing to bet that most or all of these people abused or neglected children, whether their own or someone else's. Check the police database for arrests made in crimes against minors."

Sam pulled out his laptop and started typing away.

"Hey, Sam?" Casey asked.

"Yeah?"

"What was the name of the librarian you talked to?"

He stopped typing and thought for a moment.

"Marsh. Her nametag said Marsh," he replied.

She smiled. "I remember her. She was the head librarian when I was a kid. I thought she was the nicest lady on planet Earth."

"Maybe we'll have to go back to the library before we leave so you can say hi," Dean suggested.

"I dunno," Casey said. "Maybe."

Sam let out a low whistle. "You were right, Casey. All of the people on this list have been arrested at some point for crimes against children."

"Well now we know why the Aswang hasn't been going after kids," she replied. "She's avenging them instead of eating them."

"She?" Dean questioned.

Casey nodded. "I'm willing to bet this Aswang is a social worker of some kind, and there are more female than male social workers. See if you can find the caseworker that worked on the cases for these people's kids."

Sam started typing once more.

"I'm not going to explode, you know," Casey said matter-of-factly when she caught Dean staring at her for the millionth time that day.

"I'm just worried about you, is all," he replied. "You really scared me earlier."

"Nora Faraday," Sam announced. "The caseworker that was assigned to the majority of these cases is named Nora Faraday. She lives in the next town over and has been a caseworker for, get this, 25 years."

"She's gotta be our killer," Dean said.

"Nora Faraday," Casey hummed. "I remember meeting a caseworker at the group home who liked being called Miss Nora. Maybe that was her."

"How do we know where she's gonna strike next?" Dean asked.

"Search her name against recent police arrests. See if she's been assigned to anyone new in the last few days," Casey suggested.

Sam complied, running a quick search.

"Found something," he said. "A man named Ivan Leeds was arrested about a week ago for child neglect. Nora was assigned to the kids' case, but Ivan's lawyer managed to turn the case over and bring the kids back. They're due to return home to him tomorrow."

"He gotta be the next victim," Casey said.

"He lives two streets over," Sam told Dean. "We better hurry. The Aswang tends to strike at around the same time every night and we're cutting it pretty close."

ooOOoo

Casey's watch read ten past two in the morning when they stopped in front of the house of who they assumed would be Nora's next victim. All three of them filed out of the car and to the trunk.

Dean opened the trunk, grinning like a maniac as he pulled out a braided whip, not unlike the one used by his favorite movie adventurer.

Casey rolled her eyes and handed him a knife. "The whip is only for scaring her, knucklehead. You gotta behead her to kill her, remember?"

"Don't dampen my joy," he retorted. "I've always wanted one of these."

"Just try not to take anyone's eye out, okay?" Sam said.

"Oh ye of little faith," Dean replied, rolling up the whip and clipping it to one of his belt loops.

Casey turned toward the house while the two boys were gathering weapons and stopped short.

"You okay, Case?" Sam asked.

"Is killing her the right thing to do?" she asked. "I mean, it's not like she's killing innocent people. These are child abusers. What she's doing isn't really that far off from what we do."

Dean sighed as he closed the trunk. "Sometimes you've gotta look at the big picture, Bug. Are these people innocent? Absolutely not. But that doesn't mean they deserve to die."

"She's not innocent either. Does that mean she deserves to die?"

"This is different, Casey. She's a monster."

"No, she's not! The people she's killing are the real monsters! They are hurting children! Innocent kids who don't know any better and can't fight back and believe wholeheartedly that they are completely unwanted and can't understand why their parents hate them instead of loving them like everyone else parents do and… and…" Tears were starting to run down her cheeks again.

"Case," Sam said, pulling her into a hug.

"Why didn't my parents want me?" she sobbed.

"Are we making the right call, Dean?" Sam asked.

Dean couldn't think of an answer. He caught sight of a large black crow landing on top of the house they were in front of.

"Sam," he said, pointing at the bird.

Both brothers watched as the crow jumped from the roof to the sill of an upstairs window and started pecking at the lock.

"That's her," Sam replied. "It has to be."

He glanced down at Casey and then over to Dean, who shrugged his shoulders.

"What if we tried talking to her first?" Sam suggested to her.

Cassy sniffed letting go of Sam and wiping her eyes. "Yeah, that could work."

"Good, cause that crow is almost inside," Dean pointed out.

The trio ran up the front walk to the door, which Dean picked deftly, granting them entry. They rushed up the stairs and down the hall until they reached the room that Dean believed the crow had been trying to enter.

The window was open and the crow was gone. In its place was a haggard looking woman in a pantsuit, her hair pulled up in a bun. She had a long, proboscis-like tongue that was almost touching the man lying in the bed, who was wide awake in terror.

Dean cracked his whip, cackling like a madman, which caused her to shriek and back away from the man.

Casey swore she heard Dean singing the Indiana Jones theme song under his breath.

Sam grabbed her arms from behind and pinned her against the wall.

"Go!" he shouted to the man, who didn't need to be told twice.

"Are you Nora Faraday?" Casey questioned, talking loudly so as to be heard over the woman's shrill shrieks.

"Who wants to know?" She replied.

Casey stood tall. "Cassandra Murdock."

The woman stopped still. "Cassandra Murdock? The Cassandra Murdock? The biggest unsolved missing persons case in the state of Montana for the last decade? I tried to get myself assigned to your case, but-"

"So you are Nora Faraday," Casey said with a smirk.

Nora sighed. "Yes, that's me. How on earth do you know who I am?"

"Our researching skills know no bounds," Casey replied drily. "Listen, you have to stop killing people. I of all people know that they don't deserve what they're getting, but that doesn't mean they need to die."

"You don't understand!" Nora shrieked, struggling against Sam's tight hold. "These people are abusive and neglectful! They hurt children!"

"Lady, who do you think you're talking to?" Casey asked, putting her hands on her hips. "You think I don't know how horrible it is to be brought up in an abusive household? You're preaching to the choir. I'm on your side here. But you can't kill them. It's not right."

Nora was looking at her intently.

"What happened to you all those years ago? I've been trying to solve your mystery for the last eleven years."

"I'll make you a deal, Nora," Casey replied. "I'll tell you my story if you promise to stop killing these people. And you can't tell anyone else about me. The last thing I need is the state of Montana on my tail."

"Deal," Nora said immediately.

"Let her go," Casey told Sam.

Sam raised an eyebrow. "You sure?"

"I'm sure."

Sam let go of Nora, who dusted herself off and looked at Casey expectantly.

"Come with us to our motel room. I'll tell you everything."

ooOOoo

Just past five in the morning, Nora and Casey stood in the doorway of the motel room.

Nora gave Casey a quick hug. "I'm so sorry you went through what you did," she replied softly.

"I kept my end of the deal. Make sure you keep yours," Casey replied.

She closed the door, peeking through the peephole to see Nora walking away. She let out a deep sigh.

"Well I don't know about you two but I'm ready to get out of here and never come back."

"You read my mind," Dean agreed, hoisting his duffel over his shoulder.

"Mine too. But we need to make one quick stop first," Sam added.

Casey raised an eyebrow. "Where?"

Sam smiled. "You'll see."

ooOOoo

Dean followed Sam's directions and ended up in front of a large field.

"What are we doing here?" he asked.

"Just trust me," Sam said vaguely. "Come on."

The three of them got out of the car and followed Sam as he walked through the field, glancing down occasionally at a piece of paper in his hand. Casey saw now that there were grave markers laid in the ground. They were walking through a cemetery.

"Here," Sam said, stopping. He pointed to a stone directly in front of them.

Casey squinted against the sun that had just begun to peek over the horizon and read the name on the headstone.

 _Lucille Beatrice Murdock_

 _December 17, 1982 - May 23, 1992_

Dean read the name as well, eyes widening, and turned to gauge Casey's reaction.

She said nothing. Instead, she sat cross-legged on the ground and started tracing the letters on the headstone with her finger.

"Hi Lucy," she said softly.

Sam looked at Dean, gesturing toward the Impala with his head. Dean got the message.

"We're gonna head back to the car. Take your time, Bug."

Casey turned to watch them as they walked away, then turned back.

"It's been a little while since we last talked, huh?"

She smiled. "That was Sam and Dean. Sam's the tall one with the long hair and Dean's the shorter one. They're the ones that took me away from Dad. I've been with them for almost 12 years now. They're my brothers and I'm their sister. Pretty great, right?

"I went back to the house yesterday. I found a picture of you holding me when I was born. I didn't realize how alike we looked. I'll bet we could've been twins if we were the same age."

Casey stopped, gathering her thoughts for a moment.

"I want to thank you," she continued. "I never got to thank you for getting between Dad and me. You saved my life. I doubt I'd still be kicking if you hadn't taught me how to take care of myself. And, um…"

She paused again.

"My biggest regret-now that I can remember it at least-my biggest regret is that I never got to say goodbye to you. They took you to the hospital and they took me away to a group home and I never saw you again. I missed you for a long time, and it hurt a lot. So much that my brain buried you away so it wouldn't hurt anymore. If I had only remembered you sooner…"

A single tear ran down her cheek.

"I'm sorry, for everything. I'm sorry I forgot. I'm sorry it took me so long to remember. I'm sorry I haven't been to see you until now. I'm sorry-"

She halted.

"I'm sorry I have to leave."

She stood.

"I'm not forgetting you again. That I can promise. I'm gonna frame that picture of us I found."

She turned to go.

"I'm sorry, Lucy."

ooOOoo

The walk back to the car was not particularly long, though it felt like it was. Casey knew that it would take a long, long time to heal from all the pain she'd rediscovered this week, but talking to her sister had given her a new sense of peace that she hadn't felt in a long while. She felt almost… hopeful.

Neither of the boys said anything when she slid into the backseat. Dean started the car and pulled back onto the road. He drove silently down the main street, focusing on getting away and not coming back

"How are you feeling, Case?" Sam asked.

"It hurts," she replied truthfully. "It hurts a lot. But it doesn't hurt as much as it did."

The Impala raced past the county library, where the librarian was just unlocking the doors. She smiled, recognizing the car, and watched as it left town, kicking up dust.

"Good luck to you, my dear," she said softly, before entering the building and closing the door.


	4. Dean Returns

****SPOILERS FOR SEASONS 3 AND 4****

 _Dean has returned from Hell after four months and is anxious to reunite with his brother and sister. When he goes to find Casey, she doesn't react the way he thought she would..._

 _(Takes place in 4x01)_

 _Dean - 30; Sam - 26; Casey - 20, almost 21_

Sam took off after Dean's funeral, leaving Casey with Bobby. Bobby didn't mind Casey staying with him. He'd always wanted a little girl, and Casey was like a daughter to him. But he was madder than a hornet at Sam up and leaving her like that. The poor girl had already lost one brother. Now it was as if she had lost both of them at once.

Casey stopped talking after Dean's funeral. She never said a word. At least, not to him. He sometimes heard her upstairs in the room she'd chosen for herself, talking to her oldest brother. He could barely get her to eat, and when he could all she would do was pick at her food. He was worried, to say the least.

She'd taken up the habit of working on one of the old, broken down cars in Bobby's yard during her spare time. Dean had taught her quite a bit about them and whatever she didn't know she was normally able to figure out on her own. She would sit out there for hours, taking things apart and replacing broken bits.

One day, about four months after Dean's death, Casey was outside working on the car again. Bobby was out, picking some things up at the store.

Casey was leaning over the engine, scanning the many components to try and figure out why the car still wouldn't start when she heard footsteps come up behind her…

Dean smiled when he saw Casey leaning over the car. It seemed that more of him had rubbed off onto her than he thought. He walked toward her, waiting for her to turn around.

When she did, he grinned widely at her.

"Hey Bug. You miss me?"

She completely ignored him, turning back to the engine.

That wasn't what Dean had expected.

Could she not see him? Was he a spirit of some sort? Was he still dead? He had eaten a chocolate bar at that gas station, and he didn't recall spirits being able to eat.

"Casey? Can't you see me?" he asked, confused.

She nodded. "Course I can see you. And don't call me Bug. We talked about that, remember?"

Dean was really confused now. "What do you mean? I'm right here. I'm back, for real. And I thought you loved your nickname."

"Of course you are," she said casually. "Just like you are every time you come to visit me. And I do love my nickname when Dean says it to me. But you're not Dean." She bent down and started rummaging through the toolbox at her feet, looking for something specific.

"What do you mean? I am Dean! This is the first time I've come to visit!"

She raised an eyebrow at him. "You drunk or something? You come almost every day. I didn't know figments of a person's imagination could get drunk. Knowing you though, it really isn't very surprising."

"Wait a second," he said in realization. "Have you been hallucinating me?"

"Man, you must be wasted if you really can't remember. Part of me is glad you keep coming back, but the other part of me wishes you wouldn't so I can unsuccessfully try to move on with my life."

Dean was speechless. She was hallucinating him?

"Where's Sam?" he managed to get out. "Is he around here somewhere?"

Casey shook her head sadly. "Don't you remember? He took off right after your funeral. I haven't seen or heard from him since. I don't even know if he's still alive. He won't return any of my calls."

"Sam just took off and left you here?" he asked, growing angry. "I told that little jerk to look after you, not to leave you in the dust!"

"Oh don't worry, Bobby takes great care of me. He makes sure I eat and get a good amount of sleep and stuff like that. I miss you and Sam, though. I miss hunting with the two of you. Bobby hasn't done much hunting, and even when he does go off for a job he won't let me come. I think he's secretly afraid of losing me too."

"How long have you been seeing me?" Dean asked.

"You seriously don't remember?" she queried, leaning over the car hood again.

"Humor me."

She thought for a moment.

"The day after the funeral was the first time I saw you, I think. Sam had dropped me off here the day before and Bobby was trying to get me to talk about what had happened. I haven't talked to him since before you died. You showed up in my room, telling me that it was my fault you died, that you regretted ever finding me in the craphole of a house, that you would still be alive if you had never gotten me out of there. I've tried to ignore you, but you're pretty persistent if you haven't noticed."

"It's not your fault that I died," Dean said, incredibly concerned for her. "And I don't regret getting you out of that house. I've never regretted that. It was the best decision I ever made."

"Sure, you say that now," she rebutted, "but you'll be back again tomorrow telling me the opposite. I know the drill."

"Casey-"

"Don't Casey me!" she shouted, finally making eye contact with him. "I'm done with this. Go away. Don't come back. Let me live my life. I. Am. Done."

There was the sound of a car pulling up to the house behind them.

"Sounds like Bobby just got back from the store," she continued, grabbing a rag to wipe her hands on. "I'm gonna go help him with the groceries. Don't be here when I come back."

Speechless, Dean followed behind her as she made her way over to Bobby, who was pulling grocery bags out of the trunk of the car.

"Hey sweetheart," he said, ruffling her hair a little. "How's your day going?"

She was silent, reaching around him to pull a few bags from the trunk.

"I wish you'd talk to me. I miss hearing your voice," he said.

She stayed quiet, walking up the steps and inside the house.

Bobby sighed, taking off his hat and running his hand through his thinning hair. "What am I gonna do with that girl…"

He pulled the other bags out of the trunk and closed it, walking up the stairs after her.

Dean followed him, slipping through the front door and pulling it closed.

Casey was pulling groceries from the bags and putting them away. Dean smiled a little when she pulled out a jar of pickles. She always had harbored an affection for them.

Bobby pulled a few cans from the bag and turned to put them away, stopping short almost immediately.

"Dean?"

There was a loud shattering sound. Both men turned to see Casey, her face pale as the ghosts they so often fought, standing in a puddle of glass shards and pickle juice.

"You can see him too?" she asked weakly.

Bobby had a knife to Dean's throat in seconds.

"Who are you and what are you doing in my house?"

"Bobby, calm down! It's me, it's really me, I swear-"

"What are you? Demon? Shapeshifter?" he continued. Casey hadn't moved from her position behind him. She was too shocked to do anything but watch.

"It really is me, Bobby, I swear! Your name is Robert Singer, your wife was killed by a demon, you're about the closest thing I have to a father-"

He was interrupted by Bobby splashing holy water in his face.

Dean blinked. "Really?"

Bobby shrugged. "Had to be sure." He pulled him into a hug. "Good to see you boy. How did you get out?"

"I have absolutely no idea," he answered honestly.

Both men turned to look at Casey.

"You okay, Bug? You don't look so hot," Dean observed, taking a few steps toward her.

She stumbled backward, sloshing through the pickle glass until she hit the countertop, shaking profusely.

"You're dead," she said in a terrified whisper. "You died. I watched you die. I watched the hellhounds rip you to shreds. You can't be here. This can't be real."

"This is real, baby girl," he replied softly. "I swear. This is all real. I'm back, and I'm not going anywhere ever again."

He took a few steps more, slowly, until he was standing in front of her. Then, cautiously, he put his hands on her shoulders.

Then the dam broke.

Tears were streaming down Casey's face, mixing with the dirt from being outside all day. She threw her arms around Dean's neck, holding him as tightly as humanly possible.

Dean had his arms around her in seconds, holding her just as tight. They ended up sitting on the floor on the opposite side of the kitchen in the fiercest embrace Dean had ever received.

"I'm here, baby girl," he whispered softly as she cried. "I'm here."

Bobby had found a mop and was cleaning up the pickle mess on the other side of the kitchen and was completely ignoring the two of them, something Dean was grateful for.

"I'm sorry," he heard her say through her tears.

"What are you sorry for?" he asked quietly.

"For treating you like dirt and telling you to go away," she hiccuped.

"Hey, that wasn't your fault," he admonished, tucking her hair back behind her ear. "You didn't know."

"I still feel bad," she continued, only just beginning to calm down.

He chuckled softly. "That's okay. I forgive you."

She was silent after that, taking deep breaths to try and calm down.

"That little girl shattered into a million pieces when you died," Bobby told Dean from across the kitchen, leaning on the edge of the counter. "If you'd seen her these last few months… I doubt you'd recognize her."

"I didn't," Dean admitted. "I saw her outside before you got back. Even talked to her for a bit. She didn't think I was real. She's been seeing me since the day after the funeral."

"She's been hallucinating you?" Bobby asked, surprised. "That explains a few things."

"I'm sorry Bobby," Casey said.

"You've got nothing to apologize for, sweetheart. Nothing at all," he assured her.

"I missed you," she said to Dean. "And I miss Sam a lot too."

"We'll track him down, don't worry. That kid isn't as good at hiding as he thinks he is," Dean replied. "Then I'm gonna give him a talking to for dumping you here and leaving you in the dust."

"Then can we go hunting again?" she asked hopefully. "I miss that."

"Yeah, we can go hunting again," Dean promised.

"I'm not gonna let go of you for a long, long time," she informed him, making herself comfortable.

"Neither am I," he said with a chuckle.

"I love you, Dean."

"I love you too, baby girl."


	5. Unleash the Kraken

**Author's Note: I wrote this for myself, mainly. I'm on medication for my anxiety and it messes with my cycle quite a bit. It's really frustrating, and this was my way of releasing my frustration about it. Also, the timing is a bit off on this one. They're living in the bunker, but Casey is around eighteen. I'm not posting ages for the others. Just go with it. Don't question it.**

 _Kevin can't figure out why Casey has started acting differently. Sam and Dean, however, know exactly what's going on. Whether or not they handle it correctly is a different story..._

Kevin had barely been living with the Winchesters a month when he first noticed that something was off with Casey. She was normally a very happy person, always singing something under her breath or making up something special in the kitchen. Kevin had grown to love her quirky personality and enjoyed having her around immensely. She had developed a habit of dragging him out of the library once or twice a day and taking him outside to get some fresh air so he wouldn't get 'bunker fever', as she called it. It had annoyed him at first, but he now found himself looking forward to it as time he got to spend with her away from her older brothers.

On one particular day, he had left the library on his own to get something to eat and found her in the kitchen mixing ingredients together, an act he'd witnessed many times before. Something was off, though. It took him a few minutes to place it.

She wasn't singing.

She was always singing when she baked, sometimes loud enough that he could hear her down the hall. She had a beautiful voice, but he'd never tell her that.

"You okay?" he asked, rooting through the fridge.

She nodded. "Yeah, fine. Why?"

"I dunno. It's just… you normally sing while you bake and I noticed you aren't this time."

She shrugged. "I'm not really in a singing mood today, is all. It happens sometimes."

Kevin had chalked it up to being an off day that time, but it continued throughout the week. She didn't eat as much at meal times, and she wasn't eating the way she normally did, bypassing her normal chocolate breakfast cereal for something less sugary. She seemed more tired as well. There was also the one time he'd caught her chopping vegetables for dinner, muttering angrily to herself. Well, maybe chopping wasn't the right word. More like murdering, the way she was doing it.

Kevin decided to nonchalantly bring up his concerns to Sam and Dean.

"She's not acting completely like herself," he explained to them.

Sam and Dean shared a knowing look.

"That's actually pretty normal for her," Sam assured him. "She starts feeling pretty crappy about a week or so before her cycle starts. Her stomach starts bothering her a little more, she'll have sleep issues, she gets irrationally angry sometimes… it's all par for the course, unfortunately."

"The stupid medication she's on makes things ten times worse," Dean grumbled.

"One of the anxiety medications she's on messes with her cycle," Sam explained. "It messes with it to the point that she can't track it. It stills comes on roughly a monthly basis, but she could feel crappy anywhere from 3 days to a week before it actually begins. Poor kid."

"Do you guys track her cycle?" Kevin asked, raising an eyebrow.

"In a way," Dean said. "We know the signs and we pay attention to them. That way, we can tell whether or not being in the same room with her is a health hazard."

"How do you know when she's actually started?"

"Trust us, Kevin. You'll know," Sam answered, putting a hand on his shoulder.

ooOOoo

A few days later, Sam, Dean, Kevin, and Castiel were all talking as they headed to the kitchen to get something to eat. They had all elected to take a break in researching in favor of lunch.

"Casey is here, right?" Kevin asked unexpectedly.

"Yeah, why?" Sam questioned.

"I was just wondering why she never came to help us research, is all."

"She doesn't always come," Dean explained. "She does a lot of the time, but she spends a lot of time in her room as well to avoid, as she puts it, 'choking on all the testosterone'."

Sam stopped suddenly in the hallway, causing Dean to bump into him, and Kevin to subsequently bump into Dean. Castiel stood at the back, observing.

"Dude, why'd you stop?" Dean complained.

"Casey is in the kitchen," he replied.

"Okay, and?"

"Look."

All four boys peeked around the corner into the kitchen and saw Casey leaning over the countertop, her breath hissing in and out. She was dressed in the baggiest sweatshirt and sweatpants she owned and her hair was messy and out of its usual ponytail. The microwave was on, heating something up. Sandwich fixings were spread all over the counter, along with a half-done ham and cheese sandwich. After a few seconds, she let out a sigh and continued making her sandwich.

"Crap," Dean muttered under his breath.

"What?" Kevin asked, confused.

"The Kraken's been unleashed," he replied darkly.

"The Kraken?"

"It's what we call Casey when she's on her… you know…" Sam said, hoping Kevin would get the gist.

He just stared at them blankly.

"Casey appears to have started her menstrual cycle today," Castiel said matter-of-factly.

Kevin's eyes widened. "Oh…"

"Exactly," Dean stated. "Rule number one: you don't bother the Kraken. You don't talk to her unless she initiates conversation. You don't get in her way when she's in the kitchen. And you most certainly do not make light about her being in pain. Because she is in a lot of pain. Trust us."

"But I thought periods weren't supposed to hurt that bad," Kevin said. "Cramps are supposed to be mild."

"I don't know what they taught you in health class, but Casey is different. You remember when we told you about her medication messing with her period a few days ago?" Sam questioned.

Kevin nodded. "Yeah."

"It also causes the cramps to be about ten times worse than they would normally be for her. And it amps up her whacked out hormones too. The poor girl is dialed to eleven all week."

"She screams at us, she cries because she screamed at us, she doubles over in pain, she cries because she's in pain, she's mad that she's in pain, then the pain stops and she's crying because she wants this whole thing to be done and we ask if there's anything we can do and she screams at us and starts the entire cycle over again. Need I continue?" Dean asked.

The microwave beeped, catching the boys attention once more. They watched as Casey pulled out two heat packs and strapped one on her abdomen and the other on her lower back, sighing in relief. Then, she pulled out a cookie sheet and started placing things on it like a tray. Her sandwich, a water bottle, the bottle of pain meds she'd pinched from the first aid kit, and her phone. Before she could pick up the cookie sheet and head back to her room, she doubled over and started hissing in and out again.

"We need to gain the Kraken's favor," Dean said seriously.

Sam nodded as well. "And how shall we do that?"

"I recall Casey having a certain affinity for cookies whilst on her menstrual cycle," Castiel suggested.

"That's not a bad idea, Cas," Dean replied approvingly. "She has this certain cookie recipe that she really likes in that recipe book she has in the cabinet above the microwave."

"So we just wait for her to go back to her room and then make her cookies?" Kevin asked.

"Yeah," Sam answered. "Although, with the way she's acting, it may be a little while before we're finally allowed in the kitchen again."

Casey took a deep breath and stood up straight once more, picking up her cookie sheet tray and walking toward the boys' hiding place.

"Crap crap crap-" Dean was pushing past Kevin and Cas in a desperate attempt to vacate the hallway. Sam wasn't too far behind him. Kevin just stood there watching them.

"Dude, do you have a death wish or something? Get out of the hall!" Dean whisper-screamed from the doorway of the library.

Kevin got the message, running toward him and shutting the door. Less than a minute later, footsteps were heard walking past it.

There was a collective sigh of relief as the footsteps disappeared down the hall.

"Quick, Sam, go grab her recipe book above the microwave," Dean instructed.

"Why do I have to get it?" Sam asked.

"Because you're the only one that's tall enough to reach that cabinet, genius."

Sam nodded in understanding and slipped out the door.

"Okay. Do you have any kitchen experience, Kevin?" Dean continued.

Kevin nodded. "I used to make cookies with my mom all the time."

"Good. You can help Sam and I make the cookies then. Cas will be our lookout since he isn't allowed in the kitchen anymore."

"Why is Cas not allowed in the kitchen?"

"He almost burned the bunker down making toast," Sam answered, walking back through the door with a colorful binder. "I got her book."

He put the binder on one of the tables in the library and began flipping through it. The others gathered around him.

"Man, the book's got a recipe for every type of cookie on the planet," Dean exclaimed.

"Here!" Sam pointed to a page with his finger. "Double chocolate chip cookies. This is the one she always makes."

"How do you know? There are other chocolate chip recipes in here," Dean questioned.

"I've watched her make these cookies a thousand times. I know what goes in them. This is the recipe," he replied with a surety.

"Do we have everything on this list?" Kevin asked.

"We should. Casey tries to keep most of this stuff on hand," Sam said.

"Awesome," Dean replied. "Let's get started, then. We have four hours until her pain meds wear off and she can't take more without getting something to eat first."

ooOOoo

Sam, Dean, and Kevin were all standing at the kitchen counter, reading over the recipe's instructions and searching the kitchen to make sure they had all of the ingredients. Castiel was standing in the hallway entrance, keeping an eye out to make sure Casey wasn't coming. He wasn't sure what the others planned on doing if she did come, but they had asked him to keep watch, so keep watch he would.

"Looks like we have everything," Dean announced. "Alright, let's see… 'cream butter and sugar until light and fluffy.' What the heck does light and fluffy even look like?"

Sam was already unwrapping sticks of butter. He frowned.

"Obviously not like this," he replied, hitting the butter against the countertop. It didn't even make a dent. "Where did you find this, Dean?"

"The freezer," Dean answered. "There wasn't anymore in the fridge."

"Just put it in the microwave for a few seconds," Kevin suggested. "That should soften it enough."

Sam nodded. "You guys measure the sugar while I try to soften the butter."

Dean and Kevin each grabbed a measuring cup and started to measure out sugar, Dean measuring brown sugar and Kevin measuring white.

"We ought to double this recipe," Kevin remarked thoughtfully. "Then she'll have cookie dough to make more later on."

"Good idea," Sam added, leaving the microwave to check the recipe.

"Uh, Sam? What's that popping noise coming from the microwave?" Dean asked.

Sam's eyes widened. He quickly opened the microwave door and grimaced as butter started dripping off of it.

"Oh yeah. Butter starts popping all over the place if you leave it in the microwave too long," Kevin added distractedly, pouring another measuring cup full of sugar into the bowl.

Sam groaned. "Now you tell me." He pulled some paper towels off the rack and started wiping up the wayward flecks of butter.

Kevin grabbed the bowl with the now-soft butter and scooped it into the mixer before putting a couple of still-frozen butter sticks in and putting it back in the microwave.

"If we're doubling this recipe, we'll need more," he explained. "This time, don't take your eyes off of it, Sam."

"Yeah, Yeah," he replied dejectedly, watching the butter like a hawk.

Kevin flipped the mixer on and watched as the sugar and butter began to combine. Sam dropped a couple more softened butter sticks in a few minutes later.

Dean read the next instruction. "Add milk and vanilla."

He grabbed a measuring spoon and started pouring spoonfuls of vanilla into the sugar-butter mix. Sam poured in some milk. All three watched as the mixture turned from smooth and creamy to something like expired milk.

Dean wrinkled his nose. "That's just gross looking."

"Now we add the flour, salt, and baking soda," Kevin instructed, taking the measuring spoon from Dean.

"Casey is leaving her room," Castiel announced suddenly.

"Find out what she wants, Cas. Don't let her in here!" Sam told him.

Cas nodded stoically and walked down the hall. He returned a few minutes later with an empty water bottle.

"Casey requires more water," he replied.

"Fill it up and take it back to her," Dean said.

Cas did as he was told. Meanwhile, Kevin was measuring large cups of flour and pouring them into the mixer, slowly.

"Here, Dean. Add the last one while I look for the chocolate chips," he said.

Dean measured a cup of flour and dumped all of it into the mixer at once.

Kevin heard swearing and coughing behind him and already knew what had happened.

"You dumped it all in at once, didn't you?" he asked without even turning around.

There was a muffled 'maybe' behind him.

Kevin turned around and saw Dean and the surrounding countertop covered in a fine layer of flour. He sighed and poured a little more flour into the mixture to make up for what had ended up on Dean's face.

Castiel returned from Casey's room with a strange look on his face.

"What?" Sam asked.

"I do not believe the pain medication Casey took is helping very much," he replied vaguely.

"She bit your head off, didn't she?" Sam asked with a knowing look.

Castiel tilted his head in confusion. "My head is still attached, Sam."

Dean let out an audible groan from behind the others.

"I didn't think Cas's confusion was that bad," Kevin said, turning to face him.

Dean shook his head. "She took the cookie sheet with her, remember?"

Everybody looked at each other.

"Not it!" Dean exclaimed, followed closely by Sam and Cas, who evidently knew of this human custom.

"Nice knowing you, Kevin," Sam said.

"Wait wait! Take a peace offering. You're more likely to come back alive if you do," Dean said, tossing a bag of chips at him. "She loves those."

Sam and Dean saluted Kevin as he walked down the hallway. He rolled his eyes and made his way to Casey's room, knocking softly on the door.

"What?" she replied through the door in an annoyed voice.

"Can I come in?"

"Yeah…" her voice was softer this time.

He opened her door and found her on her bed, curled in a ball around a heat pack. Her computer was in front of her, playing a movie she wasn't really paying attention to. She looked miserable.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, sitting on the edge of her bed.

"Like my insides are being wrung out like a wet rag," she replied with a slight edge to her voice. Kevin could tell she was making an effort not to be mean to him. She eyed the potato chips in his hands.

He chuckled. "Here," he said, handing them to her.

"Kevin Tran, you are a saint," she replied, ripping the bag open and popping a chip into her mouth.

"Well, not quite," he said with a smile. "Do you want me to heat that up again for you?" he asked, pointing to the heat pack.

She nodded, handing it to him. "Do you want a chip?" she asked, offering him the bag.

He shook his head. "No. You need them more than I do."

She shrugged, popping a few more into her mouth and turning back to her movie.

When he was sure she wasn't paying attention, Kevin grabbed the cookie tray and made a swift exit.

"He lives!" Dean cheered when Kevin reentered the kitchen. "How bad was it?"

"She offered me chips and called me a saint," he replied, handing them the cookie tray and putting the heat pack in the microwave.

Nobody said anything for several seconds.

"Are you absolutely sure that it was Casey you were talking to?" Sam asked.

"Positive," he answered, watching the microwave countdown.

"Well that's just not fair," Dean grumbled. "Why does she let you in her room and share her chips but she yells and screams at us?"

"Maybe because you call her the Kraken?" Kevin suggested, removing the heat pack from the microwave. "I'll be back. Follow the instructions for cooking them. It shouldn't be too hard."

He walked back down the hall and opened the door again.

"Here you go," he said, handing the heat pack to her.

She took it from him and put it back on her abdomen, sighing in relief. "You're my new favorite person," she informed him.

He laughed. "Good to know. I'll tell the others. They'll be so jealous."

"You bet they will. It takes a lot to be my favorite."

"They seemed pretty surprised when I walked out of here unscathed. I think they fully expected me to become a casualty of 'the Kraken'," Kevin said, using air quotes.

She wrinkled her nose. "I hate that nickname. It's not my fault I become difficult to be around when this happens. They avoid me most of the time. I hate it when I lash out at them so I stay in here for the most part to avoid that happening."

"I'm sorry you have to go through this," he said sincerely, sitting on the edge of her bed again.

"See, this is why you are my favorite. You bring me stuff and reheat my heat packs and make sure I'm okay. I like you. Those two knuckleheads just avoid me like the plague, and they've pretty much conditioned Cas to do the same thing." She winced and her breath started to hiss.

Kevin put a hand on her arm, rubbing his thumb back and forth to try and provide some semblance of comfort.

Out of nowhere, her phone started beeping loudly.

"Oh, Hallelujah," she said, reaching for her phone to shut off the timer. "I can take more pain meds."

Kevin grabbed the bottle of Advil off of her nightstand and unscrewed the lid. "How many?"

She held up two fingers, reaching for her water bottle. He handed her the medication and she swallowed it, resetting her phone timer before laying back down.

"I can stay for a bit if you want," he offered.

"I don't want to take up all your time," she started.

"Casey, you are the only reason I haven't driven myself insane with all the work I force myself to do. You take care of me. Let me take care of you," he insisted.

"Well, when you put it that way…"

He chuckled. "Budge up."

She moved over to make room for him on her bed. He grabbed her computer and put it on his lap so the could both see. Because of her odd position (the only position she found that partially relieved the pain), she ended up curled into his side.

"What are we watching?" he asked.

"The Greatest Showman," she replied. "Now hush. This is my favorite part."

Kevin watched the circus oddities singing 'This is Me' but was only half paying attention to them. He was too preoccupied with the girl snuggling under his arm. There were butterflies fluttering around in his stomach, something he found odd. He didn't like Casey in that way, did he?

Kevin's pocket vibrated. He pulled his phone out to see a text from Dean.

 _Dean: Where are you we need your help_

Kevin rolled his eyes before typing a reply.

 _Me: You burned the first batch didn't you_

It took a few minutes for Dean to reply back.

 _Dean: Maybe…_

Kevin sighed.

 _Me: Well put new ones on the pan and try again_

 _Dean: Why can't you come and help_

 _Me: I'm watching a movie with Casey_

 _Dean: Seriously_

 _Me: Yes she's in a lot of pain and it's distracting her somewhat_

 _Dean: Whatever_

"Who are you texting?" Casey asked with a yawn.

"Dean. He had a question about something I translated."

"Oh. Okay."

The pair continued watching in silence for a little while. Kevin was still trying to sort through his feelings about the girl sitting beside him when a knock came from her door.

She groaned. "Who is it?" she asked, hitting the spacebar to pause the movie.

"The knuckleheads you call brothers," Dean's voice replied. "Can we come in?"

She sighed. "Yeah, I guess."

The door opened and in stepped Sam, Dean, and Cas, who was hiding behind the other two somewhat.

"What do you guys want?" she asked tiredly.

"We come bearing gifts," Dean answered, gesturing to Cas.

Castiel stepped forward, revealing a plate of slightly crispy chocolate chip cookies.

Casey raised an eyebrow. "Where did you get these?" she asked.

"We made them," Kevin explained. "We used the recipe you have in your book. I helped."

"We promise they're not poisoned," Sam added with a smile.

"You guys made me cookies?" she asked in slight disbelief.

"Yes. Please don't yell at us," Dean replied.

"I'm not gonna yell at you. I hate yelling at you. I just get so mad because you guys completely avoid me whenever this happens and when you do stick around you treat me like a bomb about to go off."

"Yeah, we do tend to do that," Dean said, scratching the back of his neck.

"But I was actually wanting chocolate chip cookies today. You've all earned brownie points for that. Which recipe did you use?" she asked.

"The double chocolate chip one," Sam replied, taking the plate from Cas and handing it to her.

"Oh sweet you used the good recipe!" she said excitedly.

"They're kinda crumbly-" Dean started.

"No, I like them like this! You got it perfect," she said, her mouth already full of cookie.

Dean chuckled. "Glad we got it right the second time around."

"You burned the first batch didn't you?" she asked, taking another bite.

"We might've…" Sam replied sheepishly.

"We'll leave you two lovebirds to watch your movie," Dean said with a wink.

"Call us lovebirds again and you'll find something incredibly unpleasant in your bed tonight," she answered.

He smirked. "Like what?"

"Well let's see. I went to the grocery store, the pharmacy, the hair salon, and the thrift store yesterday. I have all sorts of things hidden around here that I bought solely for pranking you guys. Just imagine waking up tomorrow morning and brushing your teeth with hemorrhoid cream instead of toothpaste."

Dean paled slightly. "I get the picture," he replied under his breath, leaving the room. Sam and Cas followed suit.

"Feel better soon, Casey," Cas said before exiting.

Casey sighed and leaned back onto her bed again.

"He has no idea that I've been monitoring his toothpaste usage," she said to Kevin. "As soon as his toothpaste reaches a certain level, I can empty it and refill the bottle with hemorrhoid cream. He won't know what's happening until it's in his mouth."

Kevin burst out laughing. "You mean you actually have that here?"

"I have an unopened bottle hidden in one of the dresser drawers that I've been saving for weeks," she replied evilly.

"Remind me never to get on your bad side," he told her.

"Don't worry. I only prank people who get on my nerves. And you're my favorite person, remember?"

He smiled. "I remember."

She smiled back, hitting the spacebar to resume her movie.

Kevin shifted himself to a more comfortable position on her bed, watching her more than the movie. Her eyes were heavy-lidded; she was starting to fall asleep.

He was glad he could do this for her, though. She took care of him every day. Come to think of it, she took care of everyone every day. It was high time somebody took care of her for a change. And, Kevin reflected as he listened to her breathing even out, he was glad that she had allowed him to do so.


	6. First Night

_Casey's first night with Sam, Dean, and John was more eventful than Dean would have liked..._

Dean - 15; Sam - 11; Casey - 6

Dean held Casey's hand as they walked into the motel room that night. He could tell that she didn't really trust John at all yet, and honestly, he couldn't blame her. John was pretty rough around the edges. And with what she'd gone through, he doubted she would be able to trust grown men for a long, long time.

To be completely honest, he was surprised that she even trusted him. She had been tucked into his side the entire drive here, holding her doll tightly in one hand and his jacket sleeve in the other. She was incredibly tiny for a six-year-old; Dean suspected that years of malnourishment and going without had stunted her growth somewhat. He was still trying to get over the shock that learning her circumstances had left him in.

Casey didn't say anything as she walked through the door; she hadn't said anything since they'd left her house. She was feeling extremely overwhelmed and confused. She didn't trust John at all. He yelled a lot, something that scared her immensely. Sam seemed okay, but she still wasn't sure about him. The only person she really trusted was Dean. She wasn't sure why she trusted him; logically, she shouldn't. She still didn't know a thing about him. But there was something about the way he looked at her, the way he listened to what she had to say, the way he pushed her behind him to keep her out of harm's way, that made her feel safe. Dean felt safe. And safe was an emotion she didn't normally have the luxury of feeling.

She yawned loudly as they walked in. Dean turned to look at her.

"You sound tired, sweetheart," he said with a chuckle. "Let's get you something to eat so you can go to bed. You've had one heck of a day."

"I'm not hungry," she said honestly. She was used to making food stretch for as long as possible, so her appetite was very small.

"Well, I'm gonna getcha somethin' to eat anyway. You've gotta be hungry. You haven't eaten anything since we picked you up this morning."

She shrugged. "I had a piece of bread and a glass of milk for breakfast. I'm really not hungry."

"That's all you've had all day?" Dean asked incredulously.

She nodded. "That's what I normally have. Then I have an apple for lunch and some bread and cheese for dinner. The neighbors used to bring me dinner sometimes, but they stopped doing that a long time ago."

Dean shook his head. "Not anymore. You're not eating like that anymore. We're gonna make sure you have enough to eat from now on."

"Dean!" John shouted from the doorway. "I'm going out to get food. Keep an eye on your brother."

"Yes sir," Dean answered.

John left the room, locking the door behind him.

Sam sat down on one of the beds and pulled a book out of his duffel bag.

"I want to take a bath," Casey announced suddenly.

"You wanna take a bath?" Dean repeated.

She nodded. "I know how to do it myself."

"Okay then. The bathroom is just through that door. Do you have pajamas?"

She shook her head sadly. "I used to, but I got too big for them. Now I sleep in my clothes."

Dean went to his duffel bag and rummaged through it until he found an old shirt.

"Here," he said. "Wear this." He tossed it toward her.

He was surprised when he saw her shriek and dive under the small table in the room.

"Casey?" He bent down under the table.

She was shaking, her eyes wide.

Dean realized his mistake.

"Hey sweetheart, you're safe. Nobody is gonna hurt you while I'm here. You're safe. Nobody's gonna throw anything at you ever again, I promise you that. Okay?"

She nodded slowly, realizing that he hadn't meant to scare her.

He sighed. "C'mere."

She crawled out from under the table and toward him. He pulled her into his arms and held her tightly.

"I've got you, sweetheart. You're safe."

"What if my Daddy comes back?" she asked quietly.

"He won't. He doesn't know where we are," Dean promised.

"But what if he finds us?"

"Then we'll give him a one-way trip six feet underground."

Casey understood what Dean was saying and relaxed. She knew that he wouldn't let her Daddy hurt her anymore.

"Do you still want to take a bath?" he asked.

She shook her head. "I'm scared to be by myself," she admitted.

"That's okay," he said. "Just change into the pajamas then. You can always take a bath tomorrow."

She nodded. "Okay."

She wriggled out of his hold and picked the shirt up off the ground, disappearing briefly into the bathroom.

"Is she gonna be okay, you think?" Sam asked.

Dean shook his head. "I dunno, Sammy. She's been shattered into a million pieces. It's up to us to glue her back together again. And that's not something that will happen overnight. It's gonna take years, and we'll most likely never fix her completely, but I'm sure gonna try my best."

Casey came out of the bathroom in Dean's shirt. It went all the way down to her ankles. She held her other clothes in her hands, heading over to her backpack to put them away neatly inside.

The neck of Dean's shirt was much too wide on her small frame and kept slipping down over one of her shoulders. When her back was turned, Dean noticed something distressing on her little shoulder.

"Casey?" he asked gently.

"What?" she asked, turning to him.

"What's that on your shoulder?"

She immediately tensed and pulled the shirt back up over her shoulder.

Dean was making an effort to be gentle and quiet so he wouldn't scare her. "Can I see?"

She eyed him warily but began inching closer just the same. When she reached Dean, he sat her down in front of him with her back facing him and gently pulled the shirt collar down off her shoulder once more.

There was a series of bandaids covering her upper back. He could tell that she had done them herself and that she hadn't been able to see what she was doing because there were several areas that had been missed by the bandaids, revealing a very long, very deep, very fresh gash below them.

Dean swore. "Casey, did your daddy do this to you?"

She nodded slowly, hanging her head.

He sighed heavily. "We need to get this taken care of. How long have you had this?"

"I got it last night," she said softly. "I fixed it myself."

"You did a good job," Dean said, "but this cut is pretty deep. I think we're gonna need some more heavy duty stuff than band-aids to fix it. When my dad gets back ill get the first aid kit from the car and patch you up, okay?"

"Okay," she said in a small voice.

"Do you have any other cuts or anything anywhere else?" he asked.

She shook her head. "No. Not anymore."

"Not anymore?"

"I fixed all the other ones myself. They're gone now, but they left these funny lines behind."

John walked through the motel door at that moment.

"I got burgers," he said gruffly, tossing a bag onto the table. He went to his duffel and pulled out a worn journal. He sat on the bed and began scribbling in it.

"Cmon Sam, put the book down and come eat," Dean said, standing up. "I'm gonna go get the first aid kit. I'll be right back."

Sam grabbed the bag and pulled out four identical burgers.

"Here Casey," he said, handing one to her.

She took it from him and sat on the floor, staring at it with a contemplative expression.

Dean came in and saw her staring at her burger.

"What's the matter? Never eaten a burger before?" he joked.

He was surprised to see her turn to look at him and nod solemnly.

You've really never eaten a burger before?" he asked incredulously, taking a seat behind her.

She shook her head. "No. Do they taste good?"

"Do they taste good? Kid, burgers are as close to heaven as your gonna get here on this rock. Try it. You won't regret it."

She raised an eyebrow but complied, unwrapping the burger and taking a small bite. Her eyes widened.

"This is the best thing I've ever eaten in my life," she said honestly, taking a bigger bite.

"I told you so," Dean chuckled. "Are you okay with taking your shirt off so I can see your back?"

She nodded, handing him her burger and pulling the large t-shirt over her head so she was wearing nothing but shorts.

Dean bit back a gasp when he saw her back. In addition to the wide gash he'd noticed earlier, there were bruises all over the place. Small, silvery scars littered her back and arms. He could only imagine what her legs looked like.

He put a hand on her shoulder, handing her burger back to her. "This isn't gonna happen to you again, sweetheart. That I can promise."

He began to slowly remove the bandaids from her back, being careful not to cause her more pain than she already was obviously in. When that was done, he poured peroxide on one of the motel towels and started cleaning it. She flinched when he touched the gash, but didn't say anything. That action in and of itself spoke volumes about what she'd been through in her short life.

Once everything was clean, he closed up the gash with butterfly band-aids. He didn't think it was deep enough to need stitches, but he'd keep an eye on it, just in case. Finally, he covered the whole thing in gauze and taped it in place.

"There," he said when he was finished. "All done."

Casey was only able to manage half of her burger. She wasn't used to being able to eat as much as she wanted. But for the first time in a long while, she felt completely full. It was a good feeling.

She grabbed her shirt off the floor and slid it back on before turning and giving Dean a hug.

"Thank you, Dean," she said.

Dean hugged her back, feeling more and more attached to her. He wondered what his father was planning on doing with her when they got to Bobby's. Would he leave her with him? Would they drop her off at some child protective services office? Or would he let Casey come with them?

Dean wasn't going to let his father drop her off somewhere and leave her there. He had made her a promise, one he intended to keep. This little girl needed someone she could count on, and he decided that he was going to be that person.

ooOOoo

Later that night, Dean put Casey to bed with Sam.

"You and Sam are gonna share this bed," he explained, "and John is gonna take the other one."

"What about you?" she asked.

"I'm gonna sleep on the couch over there."

She nodded, holding her doll tightly.

"You don't have to be scared, Casey," Sam said comfortingly. "I'll keep you safe."

Dean turned out the lights and laid down on the couch.

Not ten minutes later, he heard the sound of rustling sheets and quiet footsteps and then felt a small, warm body curl up next to him. He didn't say anything, didn't tell her to go back to her own bed. He just held her tight, letting her know without words that he was there, he would keep her safe.

When he woke up the next morning, Casey was still there, snuggled up next to him.

That was the moment Dean decided to unofficially adopt her as his younger sister.

 **Hi guys, happy New Year! I wrote this one a while back and forgot about it. I was going through my archives today, found it, and decided to post it for y'all. I hope you enjoy it! I take requests for this story arc, so if you have a storyline for Casey and the boys PM me or put it in a comment and I'll get to work!**


	7. First Day

_After that first night, John begins the long drive to Bobby's. But his intentions for visiting may not be good..._

Dean - 15; Sam - 11; Casey - 6;

The next morning, after a fast food breakfast, the Winchesters were on the road once more.

When Casey asked Dean where they were going, he told her that they were going to meet a man named Bobby and that he was very nice. Casey was still very unsure about this whole situation, but if Dean said that Bobby was nice, then maybe, just maybe, she might be able to trust him. Eventually.

It was a long drive; Casey couldn't remember ever being in a car this long. John didn't stop until they got to Sioux Falls. By the time they arrived, Casey wasn't very hungry (she was used to going without) but she definitely needed to use the bathroom.

John pulled in front of an older house with a sign that said "Singer Auto Salvage" in front. He put the car in park and turned around.

"You two, stay in the car," he said, addressing the boys. "You, come with me." He pointed at Casey.

Her eyes widened and she immediately shook her head vigorously. His eyes narrowed.

Dean put an arm around Casey protectively, his face showing clear defiance. He was not one to defy his father's orders at all, but he wasn't letting Casey go that easily.

John sighed. "Fine. Everybody out. Let's go."

Casey slid out of the car, still holding tightly to Dean's hand. He reached down and picked her up, holding her close. He knew what his father was planning to do, and he was going to do everything in his power to keep it from happening.

Bobby answered the door almost immediately. "Hey John," he greeted.

"Hey Bobby," he said gruffly. "I need a favor."

Bobby raised an eyebrow but turned to let them in nonetheless.

"Hi Bobby," Sam said.

Bobby cracked a bit of a smile. "Hey boys. Come on in."

He caught sight of Casey. "Well hi there," he said cheerfully. "Who might you be?"

Casey hid her face in Dean's shirt.

"This is Casey," Dean answered. "We picked her up yesterday."

"Picked her up? From where?"

Casey whispered something in Dean's ear. He nodded and set her down.

"It's right through that door," he said, pointing.

She nodded and ran inside, locking the door behind her.

"She was at the library trying to figure out how to get rid of ghosts. We just happened to be there at the same time. She took us to her house and we ended up running out of the house with her when her dad came home. He was abusing her pretty badly. We kept driving until we reached South Dakota, stopped for the night, and continued driving until we got here," Dean explained as Bobby led them into the library.

"She doesn't really trust anyone except Dean," Sam added. "I told her I wouldn't let anything hurt her, but she still doesn't trust me."

"From what you've said, it sounds like she's been through an awful lot," Bobby replied thoughtfully. "She probably sees Dean as someone who can protect her and keep her safe. You're a pretty tough kid Sam, but through a child's eyes, you don't look like you could keep someone safe. And if her Dad has been hurting her, she probably isn't gonna trust John for a long, long time. What are you guys gonna do with her?"

"That's what we're here to discuss," John answered. "I want to leave her here with you."

Casey had finished her business in the bathroom and was heading back to the room where the others were when she heard that. She stopped still and moved closer to the wall to listen a bit more carefully.

"I'm not so sure that that's a good idea," Bobby said, his voice laced with uncertainty.

"Well, she's not staying with us. She's a nuisance. She'll only get in the way," John stated.

"No, she won't," Dean spoke up.

"Are you disagreeing with me?" John asked, eyes narrowing once more.

"No sir," Dean replied, looking down. "I just think, maybe, she ought to stay with someone she trusts?"

"She'll grow to trust Bobby. It will be fine," John said, waving off Dean's concerns.

Dean then noticed a pair of eyes watching him fearfully from the doorway.

He stood. "I'll be right back."

He walked toward Casey and gestured for her to follow him. She grabbed his shirt sleeve and followed him outside to the front porch, where he sat down and leaned against the house. He beckoned her to come and sit.

She crawled onto his lap and he held her close.

"Are you guys gonna leave me here?" she asked softly.

Dean shook his head. "I promised I wasn't ever going to leave you, didn't I? If he tries to leave you here, I'll stay with you. Sam too."

They were silent for a while, listening to the cicadas buzzing around the house in the late summer heat.

"I don't like your daddy very much," she said softly. "He yells a whole lot and it scares me."

Dean sighed. "Yeah. Sometimes it scares me too."

Neither of them saw Bobby watching them through one of the front room windows.

"Does your daddy ever hurt you like my daddy hurts me?" she asked.

Dean shook his head. "No. He does yell a lot, and he's threatened me, but he's never actually hurt me. If he ever goes after you or Sammy, though, he's gonna have another thing comin'. Neither of you is getting hurt on my watch."

Bobby had seen and heard enough. He went back into the library to talk to John.

Sam came out a few minutes later with some sandwiches that he'd made for the three of them. He sat next to Dean and handed him one.

"Dean, I don't want Dad to make Casey stay here," he admitted.

Dean handed his sandwich to Casey and took another off the plate for himself. "Casey's not staying here. At least, not by herself. If Dad tries to leave her behind, I'm staying behind with her."

Sam nodded definitively. "Me too."

The three of them sat in silence after that, munching on their sandwiches.

Casey made a face before reaching down and pulling her shoes off her feet.

"My feet hurt," she announced.

Sam looked at her shoes. "These are way too small for your feet."

Dean slid his shoes off. "Try these ones on for size," he said, grinning.

Casey giggled before stepping into Dean's much-too-big shoes. She stomped around on the front porch, laughing out loud. Sam and Dean were laughing too.

From the front doorway, Bobby snapped a picture of the three of them. This was something he definitely wanted to remember. He put the camera inside before walking back out where they could see him.

Casey immediately stepped out of the too-big shoes and went back over to Dean.

"I told John that it's all or none," he told the trio. "All of you stay or none of you stay."

"And?" Dean asked, shifting Casey to a more comfortable position on his lap.

Bobby sighed. "He ain't too happy about it. He's out back ranting to himself about finding some other place to take Little Miss over here."

Bobby lowered himself to the floor of the porch, groaning a little, and sat back against the wall a few feet away from Dean. Casey was eyeing him warily.

He smiled a little. "We haven't been properly introduced, now, have we? My name's Bobby. And yours is Casey from what I've heard. Is that right?"

She nodded.

"It's nice to meet you. How old are you?"

She held up 6 fingers.

"Six? That's pretty big. Suppose I should be calling you Miss Casey, seeing as you're so grown up."

She didn't say anything. One of her hands found its way to Dean's shirt, holding it tight.

"Do you like ice cream, Miss Casey? I've got some in the freezer."

She shrugged.

"Have you ever had ice cream before?" Dean asked.

She shook her head.

"That's almost as bad as never eating a burger! Bobby, we need to fix this."

Bobby nodded. "I'll go dig it out. Do you boys want any?"

Sam and Dean both nodded.

Bobby stood up off the porch. "I'll be right back."

Silence overtook the trio once more. Dean heard footsteps coming from around the house and saw his father a little ways off, talking to someone on the phone. He didn't look happy.

Bobby came back with three bowls of mint chocolate chip ice cream and handed them out.

Casey stared quizzically at her bowl.

"Is it supposed to be green?" she asked Dean.

He nodded, his mouth already too full of ice cream to respond.

She took a small spoonful and licked it. She was evidently surprised by the taste, if her face indicated anything.

"Do you like it?" Sam asked.

"I think so," she replied, putting the spoon in her mouth. She didn't expect it to taste so sweet. She wasn't used to sweet things. But the mint seemed to balance it out a little.

John walked back toward the porch, grumbling.

"I've called everyone I can think of. Caleb can't take her and neither can Pastor Jim. You're sure she can't stay with you?"

Bobby nodded definitively.

John groaned. He went over to Casey, towering over her at his full height.

"Alright, listen up. If you're gonna stay with us then you're gonna do everything I say, no ifs, ands, or buts. You don't listen, I drop you at the nearest CPS office. You understand?"

Her eyes were wide. She nodded violently.

"Good." He stomped back inside the house, mumbling something about needing a beer.

"Hey," Dean said softly. "You don't need to worry about that. I won't let him drop you off anywhere. I promise."

She nodded, but the fear never left her eyes. She knew that John was serious, and that terrified her. She resolved to do whatever he said. She didn't want to jeopardize anything. She finally felt safe. Well, somewhat safe.

"Dean," Bobby said in a low voice once John had gone inside. "If he ever lays a finger on any of you I want you to give me a call. If he ever threatens you, give me a call. And don't let Casey out of your sight. I've got a feeling he's not done trying to get rid of her yet."

Dean nodded solemnly.

Casey decided that Bobby was nice like Dean said, but she still didn't trust him. At the very least, she trusted him more than John. She also decided that Sam was nice as well, and that she could probably trust him. Probably.

"Hey Little Miss," Bobby said. "I know you don't know me very well and you don't trust me at all, but I want you to know that you can talk to me about anything that bothers you or makes you feel unsafe. Anytime at all, day or night, ask Dean for his phone and you can call me. You understand?"

She nodded. "Thank you for the ice cream," she said quietly.

He smiled. "You're very welcome."

"Hey Casey," Sam said. "You wanna go and play in the scrap lot? It's lots of fun!"

"What's the scrap lot?" she asked curiously.

"Cmon, I'll show you!" He stood and jumped off the porch, beckoning for her to follow.

She looked at Dean. "Will you come too?"

He nodded, lifting her off his lap and standing up. "The scrap lot's out back. There's dozens of cars and stuff to play around in."

He followed behind Sam and Casey as they ran off toward the back of the house.

Bobby watched them walk off. That girl was not going to have a normal childhood, he reckoned. But with those two around, she'd definitely have an interesting one. And maybe, just maybe, she'd turn out alright. Maybe.

 **A/N: So I decided that I really liked the last chapter I wrote and I wanted to continue it, so I did. If you guys really like this story, I have another story with Casey up called Silence in the Forest. It was too long to post as a one-shot here so I made it into a story of its own. It's a bit darker than this one, but I mean hey. You watch Supernatural. You can handle it.**


	8. Casey's First Christmas

**Hello, dear readers! Contrary to popular belief, I am not, in fact dead. I've just had a very long, very cruddy year, but I'm finally back on track. I actually wrote this a week or two after Christmas last year and forgot about it until now. Keep in mind this takes place in the nineties, so prices are a lot lower than they would be today. Fair warning, I almost cried writing this. But, like, happy crying. -Ella 3**

Dean - 15; Sam - 11; Casey - 6

It had been about three months since Casey first started traveling with the Winchesters. And what a long three months those had been.

It took a while for the boys to fully gain her trust. She could now confidently say that she fully trusted Dean and Sam, but she didn't think she would ever be able to trust John. He yelled too much.

John had tried (to no avail) to drop her off someplace on a few separate occasions, but Dean was adamant about not leaving Casey alone with him. After three months, John finally seemed to realize that he was stuck with the six-year-old girl and ceased his attempts at ridding himself of her. Although, just because he tolerated her didn't mean he had to like her.

Dean and Sam loved her like a little sister and were thrilled when she started referring to them as her big brothers. She was a quiet kid and mostly kept to herself, but she had been opening up a little more as of late, smiling and laughing when given the chance. Dean had asked her a few times if she'd like to talk about what happened to her while she was living with her father, but she steadfastly refused. He figured she would talk when she was ready, so he stopped pushing it.

He could tell, though, that she had some serious PTSD. She was absolutely terrified of the dark, and certain things triggered major panic. Things like yelling and shouting, the smell of alcohol, the sound of shattering glass, and things being thrown in her direction. Almost every night she'd wake up with a new horrific nightmare. She never told him what they were about, preferring instead to slip into his bed and cuddle up to him so he could keep the nightmares away.

Sam had taken on the role of teacher and had started teaching Casey a few things. She was very intelligent, given the fact that she was already able to read and count, so he started teaching her basic math. Two plus two, four plus four and the like. He decided that the next time his father enrolled them at school he would make sure to get Casey enrolled as well. She might even skip a grade with how much she already knew.

December was coming fast now, and the greens and golds passing by out the car window were slowly being replaced with a vast array of white.

Dean never really put much thought into Christmas. It was just another day for him. He tried to make it a good day for Sam in the past, but Sam had grown to dislike the holiday after so many failed tries.

Casey, however, had never had a Christmas before. She knew what it was, of course. For a kindergarten-aged child, she was rather well-read. But she'd never celebrated it. She figured Santa didn't bring her any presents because she never sent him a letter. So she simply resigned herself to treating Christmas like another normal day.

As they rolled into town, Casey moved in the backseat to sit on Dean's lap so she could see out the window. There were Christmas lights hung up all over the place, and a large tree had been set up at the end of the main thoroughfare.

"Is this what Christmas looks like?" she asked Dean.

He chuckled. "Yeah, this is what Christmas looks like."

"It's beautiful," she breathed, watching the lights move past the window in awe.

"Wait a second," she continued. "How does Santa know how to find you guys if you're always someplace new?"

"Santa doesn't really visit us anymore," he replied. "Did Santa ever come to visit you at your old house?"

She shook her head sadly. "No. He always visited all the other kids' houses but he never came to mine. And we have to keep going to different places so he'll never find us now."

A plan was starting to formulate in Dean's head. "If Santa did come to visit us, what would you want him to bring you?"

She thought for a moment. "Maybe some socks," she replied. "Mine all have holes in them."

"You don't want any toys or stuff like that?" he asked, confused.

"I don't need any toys. I need socks," she answered, slightly confused.

"But…" Dean was trying to think of the right way to explain things to her. "Socks are great and all, but Santa makes toys, not clothes."

"Does Santa have lots of money?" she wondered.

"Uh, I guess so. Why?"

"Maybe we should ask Santa for money and then we can take the money and use it to buy socks."

Dean was on the verge of facepalming. Socks? Maybe he'd have to continue this conversation later.

ooOOoo

Later that night, once Casey had fallen asleep, Dean took Sam aside.

"I need your help," he said. "I know we don't normally do Christmas, but Casey's never had a Christmas and I thought maybe we ought to try and give her at least one good one in her life."

Sam nodded. "Okay. What's the plan?"

"She wants socks for Christmas, which is good, but I also want to try and get her something fun, like a toy or something. And she's really bummed about Santa not being able to find us, so I thought maybe we find a mall or someplace and take her to see the big guy instead. And that way we might be able to figure out something else that she wants."

"We passed a mall on the way here," Sam reminded him. "We can try there."

"All right. Christmas is in three days and Dad said we'll be here for at least a week so we should be able to get everything we need."

ooOOoo

The next morning, Dean casually mentioned the idea of going to see Santa to Casey over breakfast.

She looked at him in confusion. "You want to go all the way to the North Pole? Are there monsters up there or something?"

"No Bug, Santa is visiting here today. He's at the mall, and if we go see him you can tell him what you want for Christmas and tell him where to find you, too."

She smiled so wide Dean thought her face might crack. "Really?"

He laughed. "Yeah, really."

"When can we go?" She was bouncing up and down in her seat, unable to contain her excitement.

"As soon as you're ready," he replied.

ooOOoo

Casey held Dean's hand tightly, hopping up and down to try and get a glimpse of the man in red through the crowd.

"Do you see him, Dean?" she asked.

"There he is!" Sam said, pointing.

"Yeah, I see him," Dean replied. "There's a pretty long line of people, though. You still up for it?"

She nodded rather enthusiastically. "Yup!"

They hopped in line behind a mother with three children. Casey waited patiently the entire time they were there, never letting go of Dean's hand.

"Is Santa nice?" she asked suddenly.

Dean blinked. "Santa's the nicest guy there is," he assured her. "Why? Are you nervous?"

"A little," she admitted.

"Don't worry. we'll come with you," Sam promised.

Slowly but surely, the line moved closer and closer to the small winter wonderland area that had been set up in the middle of the mall.

Casey tugged on Dean's arm and pointed. "I see him, Dean! I see him!"

The mother in front of them smiled warmly at Casey.

"How old are you?" she asked.

Casey suddenly became very shy. "Six," she replied bashfully, hiding behind Dean a little bit.

"Have you ever been to see Santa before?" she continued.

Casey shook her head no.

One of the attendants gestured to the mother that it was her family's turn.

"What if Santa doesn't like me?" she wondered aloud.

"Bug, Santa is gonna love you. Trust me," Dean said.

"It's almost our turn," Sam pointed out.

They watched as each of the three children ahead of them told Santa what they wanted in turn, then posed while their mother snapped a picture. The attendant gestured to Dean that it was their turn.

Casey, still a little shy, waited for Dean to walk her up to Santa's throne.

"Hello," she said softly.

"Hello there!" Santa replied warmly. "What's your name?"

"Casey."

"It's very nice to meet you, Casey," he replied, holding out a hand for her to shake.

She shook it, giggling a little.

Would you like to sit on my lap?" he asked.

She nodded. Dean lifted her up onto his lap.

"Now Casey, what would you like me to bring you for Christmas?"

"Well I wanted some socks, but Dean said you don't make clothes, you just make toys. So could I please have a teddy bear? A squishy one that I can hug."

Santa laughed. "A squishy teddy bear it is."

"And you gotta make sure to bring it to our motel cause that's where we're staying at right now," she informed him seriously.

"I'll make sure, I promise," he assured her.

She went to climb off his lap. "Hey Santa?" she asked.

"Yes, Casey?"

"How come you never visited me before at my other house? I was always good but you never came," she said sadly.

Santa was taken aback. He glanced over at Dean, who pointed to himself and Sam and mouthed 'foster care' at him. His eyes widened when he realized what Dean was saying.

"I didn't realize you were there in that house, my dear," he said softly. "Or I would have come. But now that I know, I'll be sure to stop by."

Casey nodded, satisfied with his answer. "Thank you, Santa."

"You're very welcome," he replied.

Casey took hold of Dean's hand again. "Goodbye!" she said, waving behind her.

He waved back at her before turning to hoist the next child onto his lap.

"I think I like Santa," she said definitively.

Dean laughed. "That's good. I'm glad."

She stopped suddenly. "You guys didn't tell Santa what you wanted!"

Sam smiled at her. "I already have everything I want."

"Same here," Dean said, grabbing her underneath her arms and hoisting her up to sit on his shoulders.

She shrieked and giggled, holding tightly to the sides of Dean's head.

"I'm taller than you now!" she exclaimed.

"Yeah? What do you see?"

"Hmm…" she looked around. "There's a toy store over there! Can we go in?"

"Sure, Bug. We can go look around for a bit. We can't buy anything, though."

"I know. But we can pretend that we're going to buy something. Let's pretend we're rich and have lots of money and can have everything we want!"

Sam chuckled. "Yeah. Let's do that."

Casey's face lit up when they walked in. Her eyes were wide, taking in every inch of the store.

"I've never seen this many toys before," she said, her voice almost reverent.

Dean lifted her off his shoulders. "Alright. Show us where we're going first."

She shrieked with joy and took off down one of the aisles.

"Keep an eye on her, " Dean instructed. "I'm gonna go see if I can find a decently priced teddy bear."

Sam nodded and followed Casey down the toy aisle.

Dean walked over to one of the store employees. "Excuse me, do you guys sell teddy bears? I want to get one for my sister."

She nodded. "Plush toys are on aisle three. We have plenty of teddy bears to choose from."

"Perfect. Thank you."

Dean passed the first two aisles of toys and saw Sam standing behind Casey, patiently listening as she showed him each and every barbie doll on the shelf in front of them and asked for his opinion. He chuckled and continued to the third one. Several moms were shopping with their children, looking at the options.

Dean found the teddy bears fairly quickly. The store lady was right; they did have plenty. He double-checked his pocket to see his eight dollars along with Sam's three still sitting in there. eleven dollars wasn't much, but he hoped it would be enough.

At first glance, the bears seemed to be decently priced, but he soon realized that he had been looking at the price tag of a different stuffed animal entirely. The bears were twelve dollars, which was more than he had. He sighed.

"Excuse me," a kind voice said behind him.

Dean turned around to see the mom that had been standing in front of him in the line for Santa.

"Hello. I was standing in front of you in the Santa line. I stayed back to watch your sister see Santa. I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but… I saw you telling Santa about foster care. I wanted to know if you and your siblings are all right for Christmas."

"We'll be okay..." Dean replied hesitantly. He didn't want to ask for the woman's money.

The woman smiled at him, picking up on his hesitation to accept help. "Pick out a bear for your sister. I'll buy it for you."

Dean's eyes widened. "It's okay, really, you don't have to-"

"I was in your situation once," she said. "My kids were able to have a Christmas because of other people's kindness. I'm just paying it forward. Which bear do you think your sister would like?"

Dean was stunned. He wasn't used to such kindness. "I was thinking of getting her this one," he replied. "The one with the red ribbon around his neck."

The woman picked up the bear and gestured to her kids to follow her before walking to the checkout.

"Thank you," Dean said sincerely after the woman had paid.

"You're welcome. Have a Merry Christmas."

Dean took the bag with Casey's teddy bear and stuffed it as well as he could into his backpack.

He found Sam and Casey in a different aisle, playing with some animal figurines.

"Dean! Look what we found!" Casey said happily. "They have horses and dogs and elephants…"

As Casey continued to list the many animal figurines she'd seen, Dean leaned down and whispered in Sam's ear.

"I got a teddy bear. A really nice lady offered to buy it for me because I didn't have enough to pay for it. Since I still have money, I'm gonna go next door and get a couple of other little things. are you good to stay here with her?"

Sam nodded.

"...and there's this one really big horse in the other area that's so big you can ride it!" Casey finished.

"That sounds really cool, Bug. I'm gonna go to the bathroom for a minute. You stay here with Sam and play for a bit longer, okay?"

"Okay! Hey Sam, they had a lego table in the other aisle…"

Dean snuck off and out of the store. He had a pretty good idea forming in his head. He just needed a few things…

ooOOoo

"Are you sure Santa will know where we are?" Casey asked for the fifth time as Dean tucked her into bed on Christmas Eve.

"I'm sure. You told him how to find us, remember?"

She still seemed uncertain. "But how does he know which room we're in?"

"Santa's magical, Casey," Sam explained, pulling on a pajama shirt. "He'll know which room we're in. Don't worry."

"But he only comes when everyone is asleep, so you better go to bed," Dean added.

Casey's eyes went wide for a moment, then she promptly scurried under her blanket.

"Hurry and go to sleep you guys, or Santa won't come!" she exclaimed, her voice muffled.

Sam got under the covers of the other bed in the room while Dean laid down on the couch and covered himself with a blanket.

"Goodnight, Sam. Goodnight, Dean."

"Good night Casey," they both replied in unison.

It took about a half-hour, but Casey's breathing eventually evened out, signaling that she was finally asleep.

Sam pulled a flashlight out from under his pillow and clicked it on, shining it on Dean, who was already up off the couch and pulling things out of his duffel bag. He gestured for Sam to come over.

"Come help me set this stuff up," he whispered. "Let's make this the best Christmas Casey has ever had."

ooOOoo

"SAM! DEAN! WAKE UP! SANTA CAME!"

Dean woke up with a grin on his face.

"Wake up!" Casey was shaking him. "Wake up!"

"Okay, okay, I'm up! Did you wake up Sam yet?"

"Yes," came Sam's disgruntled reply. He did not sound happy to be awake.

"What did Santa bring you?" Dean asked, still smiling like crazy.

"Look!"

She pointed at the small table in their motel room, where a teeny tiny Christmas tree was set up. It didn't have lights or ornaments, but there was a tiny star made out of tin foil that Sam had made. Under it was the bag from the toy store and a small stocking that looked to be holding a few treasures.

Casey was holding a piece of paper in her little hand. "I found this under the tree! Santa wrote me a letter!"

"What does it say?"

"'Dear Casey,'" she began, "'thank you for coming to see me at the mall. Your request for a teddy bear has been passed on to my elves, who have promised to make it extra squishy so you can hug it as much as you want. Please say hello to your brothers Sam and Dean for me, and have a very Merry Christmas. Love Santa.' He remembers me, Dean! From the mall!"

"I told you he'd remember. What else did he leave you?"

She ran over, giggling, and grabbed the bag from the toy store. She looked inside and gasped.

"My teddy bear! Santa brought me my teddy bear I wanted!"

She hugged it tightly to her, smiling so wide it hurt. "And it's nice and squishy too! Just like I asked!"

"Is there anything else under the tree?" Sam asked, having recovered from being awoken so early in the morning.

"There's a stocking," she replied, walking over to see it, hands still wrapped around her teddy.

"Is there anything in it?"

She reached her arm inside, so far in that the stocking edge went all the way up to her shoulder. "There's something in it!"

She grabbed the bottom of the stocking and started shaking it to get whatever was in it out, jumping up and down while she did so. She gasped loudly.

"Socks!"

Half a dozen pairs of pink and purple socks came tumbling out of the stocking to her feet.

"Santa brought me socks!" she exclaimed gleefully. Then, she looked confused. "But you said Santa didn't make clothes. He makes toys."

Dean shrugged. "I guess I was wrong."

Casey seemed satisfied with his answer. Then, she asked, "Did Santa bring you anything?"

Dean shook his head. "I didn't ask for anything. Neither did Sam."

She smiled. "That's okay! I have presents for you guys!"

He was taken aback. "You do?"

She nodded, going over to her backpack and pulling out a couple small pieces of paper. "I made you guys some pictures!"

She handed Dean a piece of motel stationery that she had scribbled on with the few crayons she owned and one of the motel pens and started pointing at different parts of it. "This is you and me when we went to the mall to see Santa. See, that's me, sitting up way high on your shoulders. Do you like it?"

Dean was stunned and incredibly touched. He ran his finger over the little drawing. "I love it, Casey. Thank you."

She hugged him tightly. "Merry Christmas, Dean. I love you."

She immediately let go and did the same thing to Sam, hugging him and wishing him a Merry Christmas before showing him the picture she'd drawn for him of them playing with the animals at the toy store.

Dean held that tiny picture in his hand, feeling incredibly warm inside. That must be why people like Christmas, he reasoned. Because making people happy makes you happy as well.

He folded the little picture in half, then in half again, and stuck it in his wallet, determined to keep it safe.

"I love Christmas," Casey said with a happy sigh as she pulled on one of her new pairs of purple socks. The teddy bear still hadn't left her arms.

Dean smiled contently. "Yeah. So do I."


End file.
